UCSB   LIBRARY 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  HILL 


FOURTH  EDITION 


The  Sunny  Side 
of  the  Hill 

By  ROSA  NOUCHETTE  CAREY 


Author   of  "The  Household  of  Peter,"  "The  Mistress 
of  Brae  Farm,"  "Rue  With  a  Difference,"  etc. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1908 
BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANV 


Published  September,  1908 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  "Ir  MAUREEN !" 7 

II.  THE  HOMESTEAD  AND  ITS  MISTRESS 16 

III.  "You  HAVE  BEEN  VERY  GOOD  ABOUT  IT"  .   .  25 

IV.  MARGARET  BRYDON 35 

V.  "A  FEMALE  CURTIUS" 43 

VI.  POT-POURRI 53 

VII.  "MISTRESS  AND  MASTER" 63 

VIII.  AT  THE  GARDEN  HOUSE 72 

IX.  ST.  CYPRIAN 81 

X.  MARSH  HALL 90 

XI.  ROMNEY  CHAYTOR 99 

XII.  "Mv  LITTLE  PREACHERS  AND  MINSTRELS"  .   .  109 

XIII.  "ROSEMARY  AND  RUE" 118 

XIV.  A  GOOD  COMRADE 126 

XV.  MAUREEN'S  ADVENTURE 136 

XVI.  A  ROCK-GARDEN 144 

XVII.  THE  VIKING'S  CASTLE 153 

XVIII.  MAUREEN  RECEIVES  AN  INVITATION 163 

XIX.  "I  WANT  You  TO  UNDERSTAND" 173 

XX.  "You  HAVE  BEEN  SUCH  A  COMFORT"    ....  182 

XXI.  "FATHER'S  GIRL" 191 

XXII.  "THE  MAN'S  A  FOOL" 200 

XXIII.  SUNNY  HOURS 209 

XXIV.  "HAROLD  SAYS  IT  is  ALL  RIGHT"   .   .   .  0   .   .  219 

v 


vi  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXV.  AMONG  THE  SAND-DUNES 228 

XXVI.  "ENTRE-NOUS" 237 

XXVII.  TOBIAS  JOINS  THE  SUPPER-PARTY 247 

XXVIII.  "THERE'S  No  PLACE  LIKE  HOME" 255 

XXIX.  HAROLD  REFUSES  TO  BE  CROSS-EXAMINED     .   .  264 

XXX.  RED  AND  GOLD  CHRYSANTHEMUMS 274 

XXXI.  "On  DEAR!  OH  DBAR!" 283 

XXXII.  "HE  DOES  NOT  SEEM  QUITE  FIT" 292 

XXXIII.  THE  SON  OF  JEZEBEL 301 

XXXIV.  "MY  LADY  OF  DREAMS!" 310 

XXXV.  "A  LAME  DOG  AND  A  STILE"     319 

XXXVI.  THE  GOLD  CROSS 328 

XXXVII.  TOBIAS  SEEKS  FOR  HIS  MASTER 337 

XXXVIII.  "A  HAPPY  NEW  YEAR,  DEAREST!" 346 

XXXIX.  "I  AM  TRYING  TO  LEARN  IT" 355 

XL.  "A  HOPE  FOR  ME,  AND  A  HOPE  FOR  You"  .   .  364 

XLI.  "I  CANNOT  FACE  THE  Music" 374 

XLII.  GOLDEN  SHEAVES 384 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE 
OF  THE  HILL 


i 

"IF  MAUREEN " 

God's  angels  drop  the  grains  of  gold, 
Our  duties,  'midst  life's  shining  sands. 

ANON. 

Character  is  an  atmosphere  rather  than  a  sum  of  qualities, 
...  It  is  revealed  in  crises. — BISHOP  CREIGHTON. 

"!F  Maureen !" 

It  was  over  these  two  words,  this  insignificant, 
broken  fragment  of  a  sentence,  that  Maureen  was  knit- 
ting her  brows  in  such  a  perplexed  fashion.  Up  to  this 
point  the  letter  had  been  comprehensive  enough,  concise, 
sensible — a  clear  statement  of  the  writer's  wishes,  put 
in  Aunt  Margaret's  straightforward,  lucid  manner. 
Nothing  could  be  more  simple  and  reasonable.  Aunt 
Margaret  was  lonely  and  needed  companionship;  her 
brother,  her  only  surviving  brother  Daniel,  had  a  house- 
ful of  girls  and  boys!  The  deduction  was  as  obvious 
as  the  fact  that  two  and  two  make  four.  Surely  the 
richly-filled  nest  at  Homestead  could  furnish  one  bright 
active  young  creature  to  be  the  much-needed  companion 
of  a  lone  spinster! 

"  A  lone  spinster,  indeed !  "  murmured  Maureen  in 
rather  a  scoffing  fashion.  "  I  wish  all  spinsters — bless 
them,  how  I  hate  the  word! — were  as  comfortable  and 
cheerful  as  Aunt  Peg."  And  then  her  eyes  became  glued 
again  to  the  two  unlucky  and  suggestive  words  that 
formed  the  entire  postscript. 

7 


8  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  If  Maureen ! "  Could  anything  be  more 

cleverly  suggestive,  more  awful  and  designing  than  that 
crafty,  wily  "  if  " — why,  it  was  just  the  thin  end  of  the 
wedge,  it  was  jobbery,  backstairs  influence,  and  ma- 
noeuvre. In  her  indignation  Maureen  could  almost  have 
hated  that  dearly-loved  aunt. 

"  Father  understood  it  and  mother  too,"  she  continued 
in  that  dumb  soliloquy.  "  I  am  sure  of  it  by  the  way 
father  looked  at  me  when  he  handed  me  the  letter  and 
told  me  that  Irene  and  the  other  girls  had  read  it. 
'  You  were  out,  Maureen;'  mother  added,  and  there  was 
rather  a  troubled  look  in  her  eyes ;  '  read  it  carefully, 
dear,  and  tell  us  what  you  think  of  it.' 

"  They  were  sure,  both  of  them,  that  I  was  the  one 
Aunt  Margaret  wanted,  though  she  knew  better  than 
to  say  so.  Oh!  oh!  I  should  like  to  shake  her."  And 
Maureen  hurried  off  in  search  of  her  usual  confidant, 
Harold,  her  eldest  brother,  who  was  her  exact  opposite 
in  temperament,  and  whose  opinions  and  worldly  wisdom 
were,  in  consequence  considered  by  her  as  worth  their 
weight  in  gold,  although  she  did  not  always  agree  with 
them. 

When  anything  troubled  Maureen  the  whole  house- 
hold soon  knew  it;  she  was  an  extremely  frank  young 
person,  who  never  could  be  induced  to  "look  at  her 
words  before  she  spoke  them,"  though  she  was  not 
without  plenty  of  practical  common-sense. 

She  took  life  with  a  sort  of  barbaric  simplicity.  She 
loved  to  be  comfortable  herself,  and  above  even  this 
she  liked  to  make  other  people  comfortable.  She  had 
a  really  sweet  temper,  though  she  could  work  herself 
into  silent  rages,  which  without  due  cause  seldom  boiled 
over. 

Her  nature  was  peace-loving,  and  she  hated  what 
she  called  a  "  scrowl  or  a  tornado."  If  people  disagreed, 
she  thought  they  ought  to  say  so  plainly  and  not  fuss 
unduly;  and  if  she  thought  them  fools,  she  never  told 


"If  Maureen "  9 

them  so,  and  was  ready  to  pat  the  most  aggressive 
culprit  on  the  back  at  the  least  sign  of  penitence. 

"  Life  is  not  long  enough  for  quarrels,"  Maureen 
would  say  in  her  easy,  comfortable  fashion;  "  I  am  not 
going  to  get  wrinkled  with  worry  before  my  time."  And 
really  in  her  own  little  world  Maureen  was  rather  a 
delightful  person,  though  Irene  and  the  twins  beat  her 
in  looks. 

Maureen  always  called  herself  the  ugly  duckling, 
but  neither  her  family  nor  friends  endorsed  this.  With- 
out being  pretty,  she  was  quite  a  nice-looking  girl.  She 
had  a  healthy  brown  skin,  rather  deeply  tanned  by  sun 
and  wind — for  all  the  Brydons  lived  out  of  doors  as  much 
as  possible  and  never  took  much  heed  of  their  com- 
plexions— but  her  white  teeth  and  frank  smile,  and  a 
certain  atmosphere  of  freshness  and  youthful  energy 
which  seemed  to  radiate  from  her,  made  her  very 
attractive. 

It  was  rather  an  ambiguous  April  day,  and  there 
was  a  sharp  suggestion  of  dour  March  in  the  air,  never- 
theless, Maureen  knew  that,  in  spite  of  the  sprained 
ankle  that  kept  him  prisoner  for  a  few  days,  Harold 
would  be  found  in  his  favorite  seat  at  the  far  end  of 
the  lawn;  and  as  usual  her  surmise  was  correct. 

He  was  half-sitting,  half-lying  on  the  garden  seat, 
rolled  in  a  rug,  with  an  old  shepherd's  plaid  over  his 
shoulders  and  a  cricket  cap  at  the  back  of  his  head, 
and  he  was  writing  with  a  stylographic  pen  very  rapidly 
on  blue  paper  on  a  sloping  blotting-pad.  As  Maureen 
settled  herself  in  an  uncomfortable  iron  chair  near  him, 
he  frowned  slightly  and  remarked,  "  I  am  busy.  Tres- 
passers on  the  paths  of  literature  are  liable  to  be  prose- 
cuted. Beware  of  the  dog !  "  as  a  small  and  exceedingly 
young  and  frisky  fox-terrier  rushed  at  Maureen  with  all 
the  ardour  of  puppy  love. 

"  Down,  Brat ! "  exclaimed  Maureen,  as  the  little 
creature,  half-demented  with  the  joy  of  existence  and 
hi^  own  exuberant  vitality,  executed  wild  rushes  round 


10  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

his  two  human  friends.  "  Oh,  Harold,  do  make  him 
quiet ;  I  must  talk  to  you,  ^for  I  am  so  dreadfully  wor- 
ried." And  of  course  when  Maureen  spoke  in  that 
pathetic  tone,  and  when  her  soft  eyes  looked  like  saucers 
of  woe,  even  that  stoical  and  self-restrained  young  man 
Harold  Brydon,  commonly  known  in  the  family  as 
"  Entre-nous,"  on  account  of  his  extreme  and  guarded 
reticence,  wavered,  and  laying  down  his  pen,  called  the 
Brat  severely  to  order. 

Most  families  have  their  little  peculiarities  and  fads 
and  fancies:  the  Brydon  family  were  remarkable  for  the 
havoc  they  played  with  their  baptismal  names.  Strangers 
always  found  this  perplexing,  if  not  ridiculous.  Harold 
was  a  fine  old  Saxon  name,  and  well  befitting  its  dig- 
nified owner;  so  why  should  his  brothers  and  sisters 
address  him  in  that  absurd  way,  "  Hurry  up,  Entre-nous, 
we  are  all  waiting,"  and  so  on? 

Ivy,  the  youngest  girl,  had  the  sobriquet  of  "  The 
Creeper,"  and  Ninian  degenerated  into  Ninny  or  Noddy ; 
Irene  was  often  called  "  Pax  or  the  Peaceful,"  out  of 
compliment  to  the  derivation  of  her  name;  while  the 
twins,  Lois  and  Sybil,  were  the  Tweenies  number  one 
and  number  two. 

Now,  it  was  well  known  in  the  family  that  Maureen 
was  exceedingly  proud  of  her  name,  which  had  belonged 
to  an  Irish  ancestress  who  had  married  into  the  Brydon 
family,  and  most  people  agreed  with  her  that  it  was  very 
uncommon  and  pretty. 

In  an  unlucky  moment,  Harold,  who  was  feeling 
aggrieved  by  some  slighting  remark  on  Maureen's  part, 
and  was  lying  in  wait  for  revenge,  heard  a  lady  friend 
of  theirs  describing  a  visit  to  some  old  Welsh  Castle, 
a  show-place  for  tourists.  "  The  tapestry  was  beautiful," 
she  said,  "  but  one  room  has  such  faded  old  moreen 
hangings." 

Entre-nous  quietly  interrupted  her — there  was  a  con- 
cealed spark  of  malice  in  his  eye.  "  How  do  you  spell 
the  word  ?  "  he  asked ;  "  I  had  no  idea  that  there  was 


"If  Maureen-  11 

such  a  material."  Then  Maureen  rushed  heedlessly  on 
her  own  destruction. 

"  Boys  are  so  absurd,"  she  said,  in  an  amused  voice. 
"  I  do  believe  that  Harold  thinks  there  are  only  two 
materials  for  women's  clothes — gingham  and  chiffon.  I 
believe  he  once  soared  to  the  idea  of  serge,  but  he  was 
never  quite  sure  of  it." 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  make  a  mistake  for  the 
future,"  was  the  venomous  retort;  and  from  that  day 
Maureen  was  distressed  to  hear  herself  addressed  as 
Serge  or  Chiffons  whenever  her  brother  was  in  the  mood 
so  to  do ;  and  Maureen  dared  not  rebel  lest  worse  things 
should  befall  her.  More  than  once  Entre-nous  had  been 
heard  murmuring  to  himself,  "  Faded  moreen,  how 
touching ! " 

Maureen  always  privately  thought  that  Harold  was 
the  handsomest  and  cleverest  of  her  brothers,  or  any 
of  her  friends'  brothers ;  and  in  spite  of  his  undemon- 
strative nature  and  provoking  ways,  they  were  great 
chums.  Maureen  always  told  Harold  all  her  joys  and 
grievances ;  and  Harold  listened,  and  occasionally  deigned 
to  reply. 

He  rather  prided  himself  on  his  reticence,  and 
observed  more  than  once  that  any  fool  could  chatter, 
but  that  few  people  had  the  genius  for  silence.  "  When 
other  people  talk — and  they  usually  talk  rot — I  do  my 
thinking,  and  I  know  who  makes  the  most  hay  in  the 
long  run,"  he  said  once  when  Clive  chaffed  him.  Harold 
Brydon  was  a  good-looking  young  man;  he  had  a  clean, 
well-cut  face,  a  little  pointed  at  the  chin,  and  peculiarly 
firm  lips.  For  some  years  he  had  worn  pince-nez, 
which  made  him  look  older.  In  reality  he  was  not  quite 
four-and-twenty,  and  had  but  recently  left  Oxford.  He 
was  now  training  for  a  solicitor,  his  father's  profession. 

Mr.  Brydon  was  by  no  means  a  rich  man,  and  his 
family  was  large ;  he  had  an  old-fashioned  and  tolerably 
reliable  business,  and  was  much  respected  by  his  clients 
for  his  fair  dealing  and  quiet  shrewdness;  but  those 


12  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

who  knew  him  best  said  he  would  never  die  a  wealthy 
man.  "  He  is  too  honest,"  they  would  remark  vaguely, 
"  and  he  keeps  his  hands  too  clean." 

Harold  was  a  clever  fellow,  and  through  his  own 
exertions  in  winning  a  brilliant  scholarship  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  going  to  the  university. 

He  knew  that  his  father  wished  him  to  enter  his 
profession.  Mr.  Brydon  thought  Harold's  undoubted 
abilities  and  youthful  energy  would  infuse  new  spirit 
into  the  business  and  widen  the  clientele. 

Harold  had  secret  yearnings  towards  the  Bar;  he 
was  ambitious  and  somewhat  set  on  taking  his  own  way, 
but  circumstances  made  him  yield.  He  was  a  good  fel- 
low, and  quite  capable  of  self-sacrifice,  if  he  saw  just 
cause  for  immolating  himself  and  his  ambitions  on  the 
altar  of  duty.  He  was  much  attached  to  his  brother 
Clive.  Clive  was  also  clever,  but  he  was  not  strong, 
and  a  sharp  illness  once  or  twice  had  resulted  in  the 
loss  of  the  scholarship  upon  which  he  had  set  his  heart. 

Harold  knew  that  Clive  wished  to  take  orders,  and 
that  a  university  training  would  be  necessary.  Clive 
had  failed  in  his  efforts  to  gain  a  scholarship;  he  had 
lost  two  chances  by  no  fault  of  his  own,  for  he  was  both 
clever  and  hard-working.  It  would  be  difficult  for  his 
father  to  send  him  to  Oxford,  but  if  Harold  gave  up  all 
idea  of  the  Bar  and  would  pass  his  examination  as  his 
father  wished,  the  thing  might  be  done. 

"  If  I  hang  about  and  eat  my  dinners  and  do  desultory 
work,  father  would  have  to  come  to  my  help,  and  then 
Clive  would  go  to  the  wall,"  he  said  to  himself ;  "  and 
the  poor  old  chap  is  so  set  on  wagging  his  head  in  a 
pulpit." 

And  so  it  was  that  Harold  took  his  fence  of  duty 
boldly,  and  Mr.  Brydon's  soul  was  gladdened  by  this 
concession  to  his  wishes. 

It  was  characteristic  and  quite  in  accordance  with 
Harold's  reserved  and  stoical  nature  that  he  took  no  one 
into  his  confidence.  Clive  had  no  idea  why  his  brother 


"If  Maureen "  13 

had  so  suddenly  changed  his  mind,  and  only  Maureen, 
who  was  very  clear-sighted  on  all  matters  that  concerned 
Harold,  guessed  the  reason  why  he  was  so  glum  and 
unapproachable,  and  so  seldom  opened  his  lips  except 
for  some  scathing  remark. 

"  Entre-nous  is  a  bit  rusty  and  wants  oiling,"  Ninian 
remarked  affably  one  of  those  days,  but  he  took  care 
that  this  speech  should  be  audible.  But  Harold  only 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  went  on  with  his  book. 
Noddy's  opinions  were  too  crude  to  affect  his  mature 
and  legal  mind.  Ninian  might  be  a  young  giant,  but 
he  was  only  a  schoolboy. 

When  Brat  had  been  brought  to  order,  Harold 
regarded  his  sister  with  languid  curiosity;  to  tell  the 
truth,  he  looked  slightly  bored. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Chiffons?"  he  asked,  drily; 
but  Maureen's  next  speech  made  him  sit  up  both  literally 
and  metaphorically. 

"  Entre-nous,"  she  said,  solemnly,  "  I  do  think  it  is 
quite  providential  that  you  should  have  sprained  your 
ankle  just  now." 

Harold  stared  at  her;  then  he  draped  himself  more 
comfortably  in  his  shepherd's  plaid.  "  Well,  of  all  the 
sisterly  speeches  this  beats  the  record,"  he  observed, 
resignedly.  Then  Maureen,  in  some  confusion,  tried 
to  explain  herself. 

"  I  don't  mean  that  I  am  really  glad  that  you  have 
hurt  your  ankle;  but  if  the  bicycle  accident  had  to  hap- 
pen, I  am  glad  it  took  place  just  at  this  very  time  when 
I  want  so  badly  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  returned  her  brother.  "  If  that  is  Aunt 
Peg's  letter  in  your  hand,  you  may  as  well  hand  it  over, 
for  I  did  not  half  read  it " ;  and  Maureen,  with  a  deep 
sigh,  obeyed  this  request. 

"  Every  one  in  the  house  seems  to  have  read  it," 
she  observed,  plaintively ;  "  and  there  I  was  enjoying  my 
walk  and  never  guessing  that  such  a  blow  awaited  me." 

But  Harold  made  no  reply  to  this — as  far  as  ex- 


14  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

pression  went,  his  face  might  have  been  cut  in  stone; 
and  troubled  as  she  was,  Maureen  thought  for  the  hun- 
dred and  first  time  what  a  beautiful  profile  Harold  had. 
She  waited  patiently  as  he  read  and  reread  it;  then  he 
paused  over  the  brief  postscript,  and  the  next  moment 
their  eyes  met. 

"  Well  ?  "  rather  breathlessly  from  Maureen.  "  Oh, 
it  is  as  plain  as  A  B  C ! "  But  Harold  spoke  in  rather 
an  irritated  manner. 

"  Aunt  Peg  wants  you,  but  she  does  not  think  it 
polite  to  say  so,  for  fear  of  hurting  Irene's  feelings." 

"  Irene !  "  in  a  despairing  voice.  "  Harold  dear, 
mother  could  not  possibly  spare  her.  Fancy  home  with- 
out Irene  and  her  mending-basket !  " 

Harold  made  a  horrible  face  at  Brat,  it  relieved  his 
feelings;  but  as  usual  he  kept  his  thoughts  to 
himself. 

"  Fancy  home  without  Maureen,"  he  said,  inwardly. 

"  How  about  the  Tweenies  then — number  one  or 
number  two — they  are  young  enough  and  bright  enough 
to  suit  Aunt  Peg?  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,"  he  went 
on  quite  seriously,  "that  is  why  I  found  Lois  in  such 
a  very  uncomfortable  state.  She  and  Sybil  were  holding 
on  to  each  other,  and  they  seemed  only  to  have  one 
handkerchief  between  them,  and  the  Creeper  was  grin- 
ning at  them  like  a  little  demon." 

"  Oh,  poor  children,"  returned  Maureen,  in  a  pitying 
voice,  at  this  painful  and  realistic  description,  "  some 
one  must  have  teased  them  about  Aunt  Margaret's  letter, 
and  Lois  has  got  into  one  of  her  nervous  states." 

"  Tweeny  number  one  is  a  duffer,"  returned  Harold, 
sententiously,  "but  number  two  has  far  more  sense. 
Come  now,  Sybil  is  not  a  bad  sort  of  little  person, 
Aunt  Peg  would  find  her  quite  decent."  But  Maureen 
shook  her  head  rather  mournfully.  The  clouds  in  her 
domestic  horizon  were  certainly  not  rolling  by;  on  the 
contrary,  they  were  increased  in  blackness. 

"  Harold,  old  boy,  we  must  just  look  it  in  the  face, 


"If  Maureen "  15 

you  and  I,"  she  said,  bravely ;  "  I  want  you  to  help  me 
see  things  in  a  right  light."  And  as  he  nodded  at  this 
appeal,  she  continued :  "  One  of  us  girls  will  have  to 
go  to  Aunt  Margaret — father,  and  even  mother,  will 
say  that." 

"  Yes,  but  only  for  a  visit,"  suggested  her  brother. 
But  Maureen  again  shook  her  head. 

"  That  is  only  a  thin  end  of  the  wedge,"  she  observed, 
sadly.  "  Aunt  Margaret  does  not  like  to  propose  out- 
right that  one  of  her  nieces  should  live  with  her,  but  I 
can  read  between  the  lines:  one  of  us  is  to  pay  a  long 
visit,  which  is  to  last  as  long  as  she  and  her  young 
companion  are  mutually  comfortable  and  happy." 

"  Well,  I  call  that  a  decent  arrangement." 

"  Oh,  so  do  I,  dear.  And  of  course,  as  Aunt  Mar- 
garet is  so  well  off  now,  father  will  think  it  is  for  our 
benefit.  Aunt  Margaret  would  be  sure  to  treat  us  well 
and  give  us  things — I  mean,  whichever  one  goes.  I  am 
not  very  lucid,  I  am  afraid." 

"  Girls  never  are ;  hurry  up,  old  girl."  But  Harold 
muttered  to  himself,  "  The  fat's  in  the  fire ;  Aunt  Peg's 
postcript  has  done  the  business."  And  Entre-nous  drew 
a  long  breath  which  almost  sounded  like  a  sigh. 


n 

THE  HOMESTEAD  AND  ITS  MISTRESS 

We  long  for  great  events,  for  imposing  duties.  .  .  .  We 
could  make  something  of  our  life,  we  think,  if  only  we  had  not 
such  small,  sordid  cares  and  tasks.  .  .  .  We  ask  for  heroic 
duties,  but  the  duties  that  lie  to  our  hand  are  heroic.  The  so- 
called  heroic  occasions  are,  after  all,  often  easier,  and  therefore 
less  heroic,  than  the  common-place  trials  that  daily  tell  the  stuff 
of  which  we  are  made. — HUGH  BLACK. 

THE  silence  became  slightly  oppressive.  Entre-nous 
was  in  a  brown  study,  and  Maureen  dared  not  interrupt 
him.  She  had  hurried  up,  according  to  order,  but  an 
uncomfortable  little  lump  in  her  throat  had  checked  her 
eloquence,  and  she  now  sat  with  her  little  brown  hands 
clasped  tightly  together — they  were  rather  pretty,  well- 
shaped  hands  in  spite  of  their  brownness — and  regarded 
her  young  guide  and  philosopher  with  wistful  intensity. 

Harold  was  thinking  hard.  He  had  a  little  of  the 
bull-dog  tenacity  in  his  temperament,  and  would  not 
consent  to  let  go  his  grip  until  forced  by  stern  necessity 
to  do  so.  He  preferred  to  fight  even  a  losing  battle  to 
the  bitter  finish. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said  so  suddenly  that  Maureen 
jumped  and  Brat  uttered  one  of  his  futile  and  puppyish 
barks,  "  I  don't  see  in  the  least  why  Irene  should  not 
go.  The  mater's  as  young  and  fit  as  possible,  and  any 
of  you  girls  could  tackle  the  mending-basket." 

"  None  of  us  could  ever  take  Irene's  place,"  returned 
Maureen,  dejectedly.  "  You  have  no  idea  the  comfort 
she  is  to  mother.  If  Irene  were  to  go  to  Aunt  Margaret, 
mother  would  give  up  her  parochial  work  and  stay  at 
home,  and  she  does  so  hate  pottering  over  the  house- 
keeping. Irene  has  just  a  genius  for  it.  You  know 
yourself,  Harold,  that  when  she's  away  even  for  a  week 
or  two,  nothing  seems  to  go  right." 

16 


The  Homestead  and  Its  Mistress          17 

Harold  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  remembered  a 
certain  disastrous  evening  during  one  of  Irene's  brief 
absences  when  he  had  brought  home  one  of  his  Magdalen 
friends  unexpectedly  to  dinner.  Maureen,  who  was  a 
very  inexperienced  housekeeper,  had  gone  to  her  mother 
in  despair;  but  Mrs.  Brydon  was  busy,  and  a  little  put 
out  by  her  son's  carelessness. 

"  It  is  too  late  to  send  out  for  anything  now,"  she 
observed.  "  Harold  must  put  up  with  fish  and  cold 
mutton.  Your  father  will  not  mind."  But  alas  for 
Maureen's  peace  of  mind — the  fish  would  not  go  round, 
and  the  pudding  was  a  failure.  Harold's  face  was  a 
study  as  the  meal  progressed;  but  he  had  the  magna- 
nimity not  to  add  to  Maureen's  humiliation  by 
any  reproaches.  But  he  winced  even  now  at  the 
recollection. 

"  Well,  then,  Sybil  can  be  the  family  scapegoat," 
he  said,  doggedly.  But  it  was  evident  that  Maureen  did 
not  agree  with  him. 

"  Of  course  Sybil  is  very  nice  and  bright,"  she 
returned,  "  and  Aunt  Margaret  would  find  her  very  com- 
panionable, but  it  would  be  sheer  brutality  to  part  her 
and  Lois.  Lois  is  not  as  strong  as  the  rest  of  us,  and 
she  does  so  depend  on  Sybil,  and  Sybil  is  so  good  to 
her.  I  don't  think  they  are  apart  for  a  single  hour  in 
the  day.  Don't  you  know,  Aunt  Margaret  used  to  laugh 
and  call  them  the  love-birds  ?  " 

"  Lois  would  get  on  all  right  if  you  were  to  take  her 
in  hand,"  he  observed,  firmly. 

"  No,  dear,  I  am  afraid  you  are  wrong,"  returned 
Maureen,  gently.  "  Lois  would  fret  herself  ill,  and 
Sybil  would  never  have  a  moment's  peace  about  her. 
If  only  Ivy  were  older,  but  I  am  afraid  she  is  out  of 
the  question," — and  Harold  nodded  assent  to  this.  "  So 
there  is  no  one  but  poor  me,"  she  continued  with  a  sigh, 
"  and  oh  dear,  how  I  shall  hate  to  go."  Then  Entre-nous 
gave  her  one  of  his  nice  looks. 

2 


18  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Don't  worry,"  he  said,  kindly.  "  You  must  have  a 
talk  with  the  mater  and  Irene.  The  letter  need  not  be 
answered  for  the  next  twenty-four  hours,  and  father 
and  I  will  have  a  palaver  over  our  pipes  to-night.  Now 
I  must  get  on  with  my  work."  Then  Maureen  rose 
stiffly  and  reluctantly  to  her  feet ;  the  wind  was  cold  and 
the  seat  was  hard,  and  there  was  little  warmth  in  the 
sunshine. 

"  Yes,  I  will  leave  you  in  peace.  Thank  you,  Harold 
dear,  for  being  so  nice  to  me.  Very  well,  Brat,  you 
had  better  come  with  me,  for  your  master  is  busy." 

Maureen  found  her  sister  in  the  morning-room;  at 
this  hour  Mrs.  Brydon  was  generally  out  "  parishing." 
It  was  also  the  smoking-room  and  boys'  room;  in  fact, 
it  was  a  sort  of  nondescript  apartment,  used  for  all  man- 
ner of  purposes. 

The  Homestead  had  been  built  by  Mr.  Brydon's 
father,  and  after  his  death  it  had  come  into  his  son's 
possession.  It  was  a  low  grey  house,  very  prettily 
veiled  by  evergreen  creeper,  which  hung  like  a  deep 
fringe  over  the  porch.  A  good  many  years  before  it 
had  been  enlarged  to  suit  the  requirements  of  an  increas- 
ing family.  An  extensive  lawn  lay  on  one  side  of  the 
house,  with  wide  borders  filled  with  old-fashioned  flow- 
ers, and  an  arch,  covered  with  a  crimson  rambler,  led 
to  the  kitchen-garden,  which  was  full  of  fruit  trees. 

Sibthorpe  was  a  quiet  little  suburb,  and  Allingham 
Road,  where  the  Brydons  lived,  had  an  old-world  air  of 
seclusion.  There  was  little  traffic,  and  the  houses  were 
built  round  a  tiny  green,  fenced  off  from  the  road  and 
planted  with  shady  trees.  One  or  two  seats,  tempting 
to  tired  nursemaids,  were  placed  for  weary  pedestrians. 

The  young  people  were  devoted  to  their  home,  but 
of  late  years  Mrs.  Brydon  had  been  heard  to  say  from 
time  to  time  that  one  was  apt  to  stagnate  in  a  place  like 
Sibthorpe. 

Mrs.  Brydon  had  been  a  very  handsome  girl  when 
she  married  the  struggling  young  solicitor,  Daniel 


The  Homestead  and  Its  Mistress          19 

Brydon.  An  old  friend  of  the  family  once  assured  her 
daughters  that  not  one  of  them  could  hold  a  candle  to 
their  mother.  "  As  though  we  ever  should  want  to  do 
such  a  thing,"  observed  Ivy,  pertly. 

When  Anna  Seldon  announced  her  engagement,  her 
friends  looked  at  her  in  sheer  astonishment.  "  I  am 
marrying  for  love,"  she  said  quite  frankly  to  one  of 
them ;  "  I  never  could  marry  any  one  but  Dan."  But 
the  friend  had  wisely  held  her  peace.  "  What  on  earth 
could  Anna  see  in  that  quiet  little  insignificant  man," 
she  thought,  "  and  she  such  a  beautiful  girl  too !  " 

Anna  offered  no  explanation,  but  she  certainly  never 
repented  her  marriage.  Nevertheless,  as  the  years  went 
on,  it  was  evident  to  more  than  one  keen  observer  that 
she  was  the  typical  round  peg  in  a  square  hole.  She  did 
not  exactly  fit  into  her  environment,  though  she  would 
rather  have  died  than  own  this  even  to  herself.  The  fact 
was,  she  was  a  woman  of  strong  character  and  great 
capacity.  In  a  larger  and  wider  sphere  she  could  have 
ruled  nobly,  and  been  a  leader  and  influence  for  good. 
At  Sibthorpe  her  talents  were  wasted  and  her  ambitions 
died  a  natural  death.  In  her  limited  sphere  she  had  no 
scope:  her  home,  her  children,  and  a  little  parish  work 
were  not  sufficient  for  her  restless  energies.  If  her  hus- 
band had  been  a  rich  man,  if  she  could  have  mixed  in 
different  society,  things  might  have  been  better  for  her; 
but  the  little  suburban  backwater  wearied  her  sadly  at 
times. 

Her  acquaintances — for  she  would  not  claim  them 
as  friends — were  not  to  her  taste.  They  were  mostly 
kind-hearted  creatures,  but  their  society  bored  her;  her 
own  critical  and  refined  nature  proved  her  worst  enemy. 

"  Margaret  suits  me  better  than  any  one,"  she  would 
say  to  herself. 

Mrs.  Brydon  was  not  a  demonstrative  woman,  and 
even  with  her  husband  and  children  she  was  rarely  soft 
and  caressing.  Nevertheless,  both  her  sons  and  her 
daughters  were  devoted  to  her;  and  when  they  were 


20  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

ill  or  needed  help,  it  was  always  the  mother  to  whom 
they  turned. 

The  old  friend  whose  remark  had  so  incensed  Ivy 
once  said  to  her : 

"  Do  you  know,  you  are  a  very  brave  woman,  Anna, 
and  you  are  a  splendid  actor  too."  And  as  she  looked 
at  him  in  surprised  silence,  "  All  these  years  you  have 
succeeded  in  making  your  husband  and  children  believe 
that  you  have  not  a  wish  ungratified  in  the  world;  but 
you  and  I  know  better";  and  Sir  Ralph  Clinton  threw 
back  his  grey  head  and  laughed,  but  his  laugh  was 
very  kindly.  "  After  all,  my  dear,  you  would  have 
done  much  better  if  you  had  married  me-.  If  you  remem- 
ber, I  pointed  this  out  to  you  more  than  once.  Your  lap 
would  have  been  filled  more  richly  with  loaves  and 
fishes."  But  Anna  shook  her  head  with  a  faint  smile. 
Sir  Ralph  Clinton  was  an  old  and  valued  friend,  and 
she  never  minded  his  odd  speeches.  He  was  a  privi- 
leged person  with  her  and  her  husband,  and  his  wife, 
Lady  Clinton,  was  also  her  friend. 

"  I  could  not  have  brought  myself  to  marry  any 
one,  but  Dan,"  she  said,  softly ;  "  and,  Ralph,  dear  old 
friend,  you  must  not  vex  me  by  saying  such  a  thing 
again.  I  am  happier,  far  happier  than  I  deserve  to  be." 
And  at  that  moment  Mrs.  Brydon  certainly  meant  what 
she  said. 

Irene  was  in  the  morning-room,  but  the  mending- 
basket  was  not  beside  her  as  usual.  She  was  making 
blouses  for  the  Tweenies,  and  as  Maureen  entered  she 
held  up  one  that  she  had  just  finished  for  her  inspection. 
Needlework  was  a  joy  to  Irene,  and  her  dainty  stitches 
were  regarded  by  her  sisters  with  awe ;  even  her  darning 
and  patches  were  works  of  art,  and  her  smocking  and 
embroidery  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  She  was  a  fair, 
pretty-looking  girl,  but  a  certain  staidness  and  gentle 
sedateness  of  manner  made  her  seem  older  than  she  really 
was. 

Clive  once  told  her  that  she  was  not  a  modern  product 


The  Homestead  and  Its  Mistress         21 

at  all — that  she  was  Early  Victorian  to  her  finger-ends. 
"  There  is  something  of  the  Jane  Austen  sort  of  young 
lady  about  you,  Pax/'  he  observed,  quite  seriously ;  and 
Sybil,  who  had  just  finished  Emma  and  Mansfield  Park, 
clapped  her  hands  delightedly. 

"How  clever  of  you  to  find  that  out,  Give;  and  it 
is  so  true  too.  If  Irene  would  only  wear  sandalled 
shoes,  and  carry  a  satin  bag,  and  have  her  waist  under 
her  arms,  and  dear  little  curls  on  her  forehead,  and  a 
coal-scuttle  of  a  bonnet  lined  with  cabbage-roses,  she 
would  be  quite  perfect." 

But  Irene  only  said  calmly,  "  How  can  you  waste 
your  time  talking  such  nonsense ! "  And  then,  like 
Werter's  Charlotte,  she  went  on  cutting  bread  and 
butter,  another  of  her  neat-handed  accomplishments. 

"\Yhen  Maureen  had  admired  the  blouse,  Irene  put 
out  her  hand  and  patted  her  arm  in  a  comfortable  sort 
of  way.  "  How  tired  and  worried  you  look,  dear ;  sit 
down  and  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  am  afraid  Aunt  Mar- 
garet's letter  is  troubling  you."  And  Maureen  needed 
no  further  invitation. 

She  poured  out  her  perplexities  while  Irene  went 
on  with  her  sewing ;  but  it  was  evident  that  her  attention 
was  given  to  her  sister,  and  as  soon  as  Maureen  paused, 
she  put  down  her  work  again. 

"  Oh,  dear,  what  a  pity  it  is  that  Aunt  Margaret 
wants  one  of  us  to  go  to  her;  but  it  is  only  natural,  as 
father  says,  and  I  can  see  that  he  thinks  we  can  hardly 
refuse." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not " ;  but  Maureen  spoke  in  a  weary 
manner. 

Irene  looked  at  her  and  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  Maureen  dear.  I  am  sure  you  know  me  well  enough 
not  to  think  me  selfish  if  I  say  that  I  do  not  believe  that 
it  is  my  duty  to  leave  home." 

"  You  mean  that  mother  cannot  do  without  you  ? 
Oh  yes,  I  know  that.  I  told  Entre-nous  so  at  once,  but 
he  would  argue  the  point." 


22  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  That  is  because  you  are  his  favourite,"  returned 
Irene,  who  had  not  a  grain  of  jealousy  in  her  nature. 
She  was  quite  content  to  be  her  mother's  girl,  and  to 
know  that  she  was  absolutely  necessary  to  her.  She 
loved  all  her  brothers  and  sisters,  but  perhaps  Clive 
was  her  favorite.  "  Harold  does  not  like  the  idea  of 
parting  with  you.  It  is  rather  hard  for  him,  poor  fellow, 
now  he  is  to  be  always  at  home." 

Maureen  sighed.  "  He  wanted  Sybil  to  go,  but  I 
told  him  that  it  would  be  too  cruel  to  separate  her  and 
Lois." 

"  Oh,  that  would  never  do,"  returned  Irene,  quickly. 
"It  would  be  very  bad  for  Lois;  she  would  just  fret 
herself  ill.  She  has  been  quite  upset  all  the  morning 
because  father  said  jestingly  that  Sybil  ought  to  go. 
I  believe  she  thought  he  was  in  earnest,  and  Sybil  has 
had  such  work  with  her." 

"  Then  I  may  as  well  put  them  out  of  their  misery, 
for  I  knew  as  soon  as  I  read  the  letter  that  I  should  be 
the  one  to  go."  There  was  an  unusual  sharpness  in 
Maureen's  voice,  and  such  a  troubled  look  in  her  eyes 
that  Irene  felt  quite  sad. 

They  had  quite  a  long  talk  after  this,  and  Irene  said 
so  many  nice  comforting  things  that  after  a  time 
Maureen  took  a  more  cheerful  view  of  the  situation. 

A  little  tact  and  sympathy  will  do  wonders.  When 
Irene  praised  her  for  her  courage  and  unselfishness, 
Maureen  felt  as  though  she  was  really  doing  some  fine 
and  heroic  thing  which  would  earn  the  gratitude  of 
her  family.  And  then  Irene  was  so  sensible  and  practical. 

"  Aunt  Margaret  only  invites  you  for  a  long  visit," 
she  went  on,  "  and  of  course  you  will  come  home  from 
time  to  time,  and  I  daresay  she  will  often  have  one  of 
us  down  to  stay.  Things  may  be  much  better  than 
you  expect,  Maury  dear,  and  you  will  have  the  satis- 
faction of  knowing  you  are  doing  your  duty."  And 
when  she  had  said  this  Irene  kissed  her  affectionately, 
and  told  her  that  luncheon  would  be  ready  in  five 
minutes. 


The  Homestead  and  Its  Mistress         23 

The  family  were  already  gathered  round  the  table 
when  Mrs.  Brydon  entered.  She  still  wore  her  hat,  and 
had  only  divested  herself  of  her  warm  jacket.  This  was 
her  usual  custom  when  she  was  "  parishing,"  and  no 
one  took  any  notice. 

Sir  Ralph  Clinton  was  right,  and  Mrs.  Brydon  was 
certainly  handsomer  than  any  of  her  daughters,  though 
there  was  rather  a  careworn  expression  at  times  on  her 
face.  "  Mother  has  her  tired  look,"  one  or  other  would 
say;  but  the  fatigue  was  more  mental  than  physical. 
She  was  somewhat  careless  in  dress,  but  no  shabbiness 
of  attire  seemed  to  detract  from  her  dignity  and  self- 
possession.  And  under  all  circumstances  she  was  a 
striking-looking  woman. 

As  Mrs.  Brydon  took  her  seat  she  glanced  at  the 
twins.  "  I  hope  your  head  has  left  off  aching,  Lois," 
she  said  quietly ;  "  you  had  better  try  and  eat  your 
luncheon."  And  Lois,  who  had  been  trifling  with  the 
contents  of  her  plate,  colored  a  little,  as  though  her 
mother's  bracing  remark  did  not  please  her. 

"  How  is  a  person  to  eat  when  one  is  not  hungry  ?  " 
she  observed  to  Sybil  in  a  whisper. 

"  A  person  can  always  try  their  level  best,"  returned 
Harold,  who  had  sharp  ears.  "  Mother,  I  hope  you  and 
Mrs.  Reynolds .  have  not  been  fighting  again  " ;  for  it 
was  well  known  in  the  neighborhood  that  Mrs.  Brydon 
and  the  Vicar's  wife  did  not  always  pull  together. 

Mrs.  Reynolds,  who  was  a  well-meaning  but  ex- 
tremely fussy  person,  was  a  little  jealous  of  Mrs. 
Brydon's  capabilities  and  clever  management.  It  was 
a  pain  and  grief  to  the  good  lady  that  the  Vicar  seemed 
to  depend  on  her  so  much.  It  was  all  very  well  for 
Mrs.  Brydon  to  defer  to  her  in  public,  but  in  reality  Mrs. 
Reynolds  was  a  nonentity  compared  to  her  energetic  col- 
league, and  she  was  often  unpleasantly  aware  of  the  fact. 
Even  dense  people  have  their  feelings  and  can  be  sensi- 
tive on  some  points. 

Mrs.  Brydon  took  no  apparent  notice  of  her  son's 


24  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

speech.  She  always  ignored  any  remark  or  question 
which  she  did  not  care  to  answer.  She  preferred  to 
keep  her  parochial  troubles  to  herself.  Mrs.  Reynolds's 
helplessness  and  absurd  jealousy  threatened  to  be  a  seri- 
ous obstruction  to  her  work.  She  had  begged  Mrs. 
Brydon  with  tears  in  her  eyes  to  take  the  Mothers'  Bible 
Class  off  her  hands,  as  she  was  so  frightfully  overworked, 
but  now  Mrs.  Reynolds  seemed  jealous  of  the  increasing 
numbers. 

"  In  my  time  I  could  never  get  more  than  eighteen 
women,"  she  said  rather  fretfully  to  her  husband,  "  but 
Mrs.  Brydon  says  she  has  thirty  on  the  books,  and  she 
thinks  one  or  two  more  are  coming.  It  is  very  hard, 
George,  for  I  used  to  take  such  pains  with  my  lesson." 
But  the  Vicar  only  said  a  soothing  word  and  went  on 
with  his  paper.  He  was  very  fond  of  his  homely  little 
wife,  who  had  plenty  of  household  virtues  to  endear  her 
to  a  husband's  heart.  She  was  an  excellent  wife  and 
mother,  but  she  was  limited,  and  Mrs.  Brydon  was  one 
of  the  cleverest  women  he  knew.  He  had  a  great  respect 
for  her,  and  was  deeply  grateful  for  her  help  in  the 
parish.  It  was  a  pity  that  Fanny  seemed  inclined  to  be 
jealous,  but  women  often  had  these  fancies. 

He  was  an  earnest,  hard-working  man,  and  it  would 
have  been  grievous  to  him  if  anything  should  mar  the 
good  work,  but  it  was  better  to  leave  them  to  fight  it 
out.  "  Fanny  will  come  to  her  senses  by  and  by,"  he 
said  to  himself  as  he  went  off  to  his  study  to  consider 
his  sermon  for  the  following  Sunday. 


Ill 

"YOU  HAVE  BEEN  VERY  GOOD  ABOUT  IT" 

Peace  in  this  life  springs  from  acquiescence  even  in  disagree- 
able things,  not  in  an  exemption  from  bearing  them. — FENELON. 

It  does  no  good  to  brood  over  our  troubles ;  it  does  not 
help  matters  out  a  bit.  Be  on  the  lookout  for  bright  rays  and 
you  will  certainly  find  them. — ANON. 

THE  Brydons  taken  as  a  whole  were  certainly  a  good- 
looking  family;  and  in  spite  of  Sir  Ralph's  disparaging 
remark,  the  young  people  grouped  round  the  luncheon- 
table  would  have  favourably  impressed  an  onlooker.  The 
twins,  Lois  and  Sybil,  who  had  just  left  their  eighteenth 
birthday  behind  them,  were  tall  graceful  girls.  Most 
people  thought  that  Lois  was  decidedly  pretty,  her 
features  were  good  and  her  colouring  charming;  but 
Sybil's  bright  eyes  and  animation  made  her  almost 
equally  attractive.  Ivy,  who  was  the  youngest  of  the 
family,  and  who  was  alternately  teased  and  spoiled  by 
her  brothers,  was  only  fourteen. 

She  had  a  clever,  piquante  little  face.  She  had  her 
mother's  dark  eyes  and  a  mass  of  fair  hair,  tied  up 
loosely  with  black  ribbon.  It  was  Ninian's  delight  to 
untie  this  on  every  possible  occasion,  to  Ivy's  intense 
indignation,  and  unless  Mrs.  Brydon  were  present  a 
battle-royal  would  ensue. 

When  luncheon  was  over,  Maureen,  who  had  been 
very  quiet  and  subdued  during  the  meal,  looked  at  her 
mother  rather  appealingly. 

"  Are  you  too  busy  to  talk  to  me  now,  mother  ?  " 
Then  Mrs.  Brydon  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  dear,  I  am  only  going  up  to  my  room ;  you 
can  come  with  me  if  you  like,  I  shall  be  rather  glad  of 
a  rest."  Then  Maureen  followed  her  upstairs. 

25 


26  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Mrs.  Brydon's  room  was  over  the  drawing-room; 
it  was  a  large  pleasant  room,  with  a  wide  window  over- 
looking the  little  green  and  a  side  window  with  a  view 
of  the  garden.  These  two  rooms  and  a  bathroom  and 
dressing-room  had  been  added  some  years  previously. 

Mrs.  Brydon  took  off  her  hat  and  smoothed  her  hair 
without  looking  at  herself  in  the  glass;  then  she  sat 
down  on  a  wide  roomy  couch  which  stood  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  and  invited  Maureen  with  a  gesture  to  take 
the  opposite  corner. 

"  Will  you  let  me  have  your  Aunt  Margaret's  letter," 
she  said,  quietly,  before  the  girl  could  open  her  lips ; 
"  I  want  to  read  it  again."  And  Maureen  silently  handed 
it  to  her. 

She  read  it  slowly  from  beginning  to  end,  folded  it 
up  again,  and  replaced  it  in  the  envelope.  "  I  will  give 
it  back  to  your  father  this  evening,"  was  all  she  said. 

"  Mother,  I  do  wish  you  would  tell  me  exactly 
what  you  really  think  about  the  letter,"  burst  out 
Maureen.  "  I  have  been  talking  to  Harold  and  Irene, 
and  thought  I  think  we  all  agree,  and  have  come  to  the 
same  conclusion,  yet  I  would  rather  have  your  opinion 
first."  But  Mrs.  Brydon  hesitated. 

"  When  your  father  read  the  letter,  he  said  at  once 
that  one  of  you  ought  to  go  to  Aunt  Margaret;  and 
though  I  do  not  want  to  part  with  any  of  my  girls,  I 
think  he  is  right.  He  has  always  so  disliked  the  idea 
of  her  living  alone." 

"  But  she  is  not  young,  mother.  I  should  think  Aunt 
Margaret  must  be  nearly  fifty." 

"  No,  she  is  only  forty-seven ;  she  is  four  or  five 
years  younger  than  your  father.  But  we  were  not  con- 
sidering her  age,  Maureen;  even  at  fifty  an  unmarried 
woman  can  be  lonely." 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course.  Not  that  I  should  think  Aunt 
Margaret  would  ever  be  dull,  she  has  so  many 
resources." 

"  True,  my  dear ;  but,  as  you  see,  she  is  very  anxious 


"You  Have  Been  Very  Good  About  It"  27 

to  find  a  companion.  But  we  need  not  go  into  that  now. 
Your  father  thinks  that  one  of  you  ought  to  go,  at  least 
for  a  time,  and  the  question  is  who  ?  "  Mrs.  Brydon 
paused ;  it  seemed  difficult  for  her  to  go  on.  She  was 
afraid  of  hurting  Maureen's  feelings,  and  yet  she  could 
only  speak  the  truth. 

"  I  don't  see  how  we  are  to  spare  Irene,"  she  went 
on.  "  She  is  my  right  hand,  and  we  should  all  be  lost 
without  her.  You  don't  think  we  ought  to  let  her  go, 
do  you,  Maureen  ?  "  in  an  anxious  voice. 

"  Of  course  not ;  Irene  cannot  be  spared,"  returned 
Maureen,  hastily ;  "  she  is  far  too  useful  to  you  and 
father  and  the  boys,  and  she  would  hate  to  leave  home." 
For  she  knew  well  Irene  was  the  mother's  girl,  on  whom 
she  depended  for  help  and  comfort.  Irene  had  a  con- 
tented nature,  and  she  fitted  into  her  home  niche  very 
comfortably.  She  had  no  yearnings  for  a  wider  scope 
and  broader  horizons:  the  daily  task,  the  trivial  round, 
the  little  inexpensive  pleasures  which  fell  to  her  lot 
quite  satisfied  her. 

Mrs.  Brydon  often  envied  the  girl;  Irene's  tranquil, 
peaceful  nature  was  such  a  contrast  to  her  mother's 
secret  discontent  and  restlessness.  But,  unknown  to 
both  of  them,  Irene  had  from  her  very  childhood  exer- 
cised a  calming  influence  on  her  mother. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  I  could  spare  her,"  echoed  Mrs. 
Brydon,  in  a  troubled  tone ;  "  and  though  some  one  sug- 
gested Sybil,  I  do  not  think  we  ought  to  separate  her 
and  Lois.  Lois  is  not  strong,  and  she  is  never  happy 
without  Sybil." 

"  Oh,  no.  Please  do  not  say  any  more,  mother ;  of 
course  I  know  that  I  am  the  only  one  who  can  go  to 
Aunt  Margaret." 

"  I  am  afraid  so,  dear,"  returned  Mrs.  Brydon  gently, 
and  her  eyes  were  full  of  maternal  solicitude.  "  I  think 
from  her  postcript  that  you  are  the  one  she  really  wants. 

'  If  Maureen ! '  Oh  yes,  even  your  father  thought 

that." 


28  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Yes,  and  father  evidently  thinks  I  am  the  one  to 
go,"  returned  Maureen,  with  an  effort.  The  lump  had 
come,  back  into  her  throat  and  her  voice  was  rather 
husky. 

"  No,  my  dear,  he  never  said  so.  As  far  as  I  can 
remember,  he  looked  at  Sybil  when  he  said  one  of  the 
girls  ought  to  go.  Your  father  will  not  like  losing 
you,  Maureen,  neither  shall  I " ;  and  there  was  such 
unwonted  softness  in  her  mother's  tone  that  Maureen 
gave  her  hand  a  little  squeeze.  She  was  on  the  brink 
of  tears,  only  she  knew*  her  mother's  dislike  to  a  scene. 

She  had  reproved  Lois  more  than  once  quite  sharply 
for  her  want  of  self-control. 

"  If  you  are  unhappy,"  she  observed  once,  "  there  is 
nO(need  to  make  the  rest  of  the  family  uncomfortable. 
You  are  too  emotional,  my  child.  If  you  have  not  learnt 
self-restraint,  you  have  not  mastered  one  of  the  first 
lessons  of  life."  But  Lois  had  thought  her  mother  very 
severe  and  unsympathetic,  and  had  gone  to  Sybil  for 
consolation.  But  though  Mrs.  Brydon  could  be  bracing 
at  times  with  her  daughters,  she  certainly  practised  what 
she  preached. 

She  was  not  in  the  least  blind  to  the  painful  effort 
Maureen  was  making  to  keep  the  tears  from  her  eyes ; 
on  the  contrary,  she  secretly  admired  the  girl  for  her 
pluck,  and  her  mother's  nature  yearned  to  comfort  her 
and  to  make  things  easier  for  her. 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  go,  mother,"  continued 
Maureen  presently ;  "  Harold  and  Irene  are  both  sorry, 
but  they  think  it  is  right." 

"  I  am  sorry  too,"  returned  her  mother,  with  a  sigh ; 
"you  know  that,  do  you  not,  Maureen?  But,  my  child, 
you  are  rather  impulsive;  there  is  no  need  to  decide 
things  in  such  a  hurry ;  to-morrow,  or  even  the  next  day, 
would  be  soon  enough  to  answer  the  letter."  But 
Maureen  shook  her  head  vehemently  at  this. 

"  No,  I  have  quite  decided,  mother.  What  is  the  use 
of  prolonging  the  agony  and  making  every  one  uncom- 


fortable?  If  some  one  must  go  to  Aunt  Margaret,  I 
must  be  that  some  one." 

"  Very  well,  we  will  consider  it  settled  then,"  returned 
Mrs.  Brydon,  with  rather  a  sad  smile.  But  Maureen 
broke  in  eagerly: 

''  And — and  I  mean  to  make  the  best  of  it ;  there  is 
no  good  being  half-hearted  about  things.  I  am  very 
fond  of  Aunt  Margaret,  and  I  ought  to  feel  flattered  by 
her  wanting  me;  and  if  it  were  not  for  leaving  you  all, 

and  Entre-nous  just  settled  at  home "  And  here  one 

small  tear  was  furtively  brushed  away.  But  Mrs. 
Brydon  wisely  took  no  notice. 

"  There  is  nothing  like  looking  on  the  bright  side  of 
things,  Maureen,"  she  observed,  encouragingly.  "  You 
are  only  going  on  a  visit — a  long  visit  perhaps — but  that 
will  depend  largely  on  yourself  and  Aunt  Margaret.  If 
you  like  your  life  at  Branksmere,  you  may  be  quite  con- 
tent to  prolong  your  stay  indefinitely.  'Nothing  need  be 
settled  beforehand ;  you  are  a  free  agent,  and  no  one  will 
blame  you  if  you  throw  it  all  up  in  a  fit  of  home-sick- 
ness." Mrs.  Brydon  was  quite  aware  as  she  said  this 
that  nothing  would  be  more  unlikely.  Maureen  had  too 
much  backbone,  too  high  a  sense  of  duty,  to  desert  her 
post  for  any  inadequate  reason.  As  she  and  Entre-nous 
often  said  to  each  other,  "  It  is  dogged  that  does  it." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  to  do  anything  so  ridiculous," 
she  returned,  in  answer  to  this  remark.  "  Of  course, 
if  any  of  you  are  ill  and  need  me,  Aunt  Margaret  would 
be  the  first  to  advise  me  to  come  home." 

"Yes;  and  although  the  journey  is  a  little  trouble- 
some, Branksmere  is  not  so  very  far  from  London,  and 
there  are  three  posts  daily.  It  is  not  as  though  you 
were  going  to  Australia."  Maureen  smiled;  then  she 
tried  bravely  to  follow  her  mother's  lead. 

"  I  daresay  I  shall  like  it  when  I  get  used  to  it,"  she 
observed,  with  an  attempt  at  cheerfulness.  "  Irene  thinks 
that  Aunt  Margaret  will  be  sure  to  have  her  or  the 
twins  down  for  a  week  or  two  occasionally,  or  one  of 


30  ,The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

them  might  even  take  my  place  for  a  time  while  I  came 
home." 

"  I  have  not  a  doubt  of  it,"  returned  Mrs.  Brydon, 
briskly.  "  Now,  my  dear,  as  we  have  had  our  talk,  I 
think  I  must  send  you  away,  for  I  have  two  or  three 
letters  to  write  before  tea."  And  then,  as  Maureen 
kissed  her,  she  put  her  hand  caressingly  on  the  girl's 
shoulder.  "  Cheer  up,  dear ;  you  have  been  very  good 
about  it,  and  I  shall  not  be  a  bit  surprised  to  hear  that 
you  and  Aunt  Margaret  are  quite  happy  together." 

"  I  am  sure  I  hope  so,  mother."  But  Maureen's  face 
was  still  grave  as  she  went  out  of  the  room.  Her 
mother  had  been  nice  and  comforting,  and  her  manner 
had  told  her  plainly  that  she  was  pleased  with  her.  Mrs. 
Brydon  very  rarely  praised  any  of  her  daughters,  and 
those  few  words,  "  You  have  been  very  good  about  it," 
conveyed  a  good  deal  to  Maureen's  ears.  "  I  am  glad 
I  was  not  really  silly,"  she  thought,  as  she  closed  the 
door. 

Maureen  had  hoped  to  take  refuge  in  her  own  room. 
She  slept  in  a  small  front  room  opening  out  of  the  larger 
one  occupied  by  the  twins.  The  door  of  communication 
was  generally  closed,  unless  by  mutual  consent,  but  on 
this  afternoon  it  was  wide  open,  and  the  Tweenies  in 
their  hats  and  jackets  were  evidently  lying  in  wait  for 
her. 

"  Oh,  Maureen,  what  an  age  you  have  been ! "  ex- 
claimed Sybil,  anxiously.  "  Have  you  settled  things  with 
mother?  Lois  has  been  worrying  herself  for  the  last 
half-hour,  and  of  course  her  head  is  bad  again." 

"  Oh  yes,  it  is  all  settled,"  returned  Maureen,  rather 
shortly.  "  You  need  not  worry,  Lois ;  I  told  mother  that 
I  would  go  to  Aunt  Margaret."  Then  the  Tweenies 
simultaneously  embraced  her,  and  there  was  a  sisterly 
peck  on  either  cheek. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !  I  mean,  I  am  so  glad  that 
Sybil  will  not  have  to  go,"  observed  Lois  in  a  tone  of 
rapture.  "  You  are  just  splendid,  Maury  dear,  and  Sybil 


"You  Have  Been  Very  Good  About  It'*  31 

and  I  are  nearly  bursting-  with  gratitude;  and  you  are 
a  perfect  darling — is  she  not,  Syb  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  returned  Maureen,  good- 
humoredly.  "  I  am  glad  that  you  are  glad,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing." 

"  But  we  aren't  a  bit  glad  that  you  are  going,  Maury. 
We  would  sooner  lose  Irene  than  you.  Sybil  and  I  were 
saying  so  just  now." 

;<  Then  you  were  both  very  silly,  Lois.  If  Irene  went 
you  would  soon  retract  your  words.  But  don't  let  me 
keep  you,  you  are  both  going  out." 

"  Yes,  but  we  could  not  go  until  we  knew  what  was 
settled.  Won't  you  come  with  us,  Maury  darling? " 
and  Lois  spoke  in  her  most  coaxing  fashion.  "  We  are 
going  for  a  long  walk  over  the  common,  and  it  would 
be  so  nice  to  have  you  with  us."  But  Maureen  was  not 
to  be  tempted. 

"  No,  thank  you ;  two  are  company  and  three  none. 
Irene  is  going  to  work  hard  at  her  blouses,  and  I  shall 
join  her  by  and  by." 

"  Come,  Lois,  we  are  losing  the  best  part  of  the 
afternoon,"  observed  Sybil,  impatiently. 

But  Maureen's  heart  misgave  her  as  they  ran  down- 
stairs. "  Poor  little  souls,"  she  thought,  remorsefully, 
"  I  am  afraid  they  did  not  find  me  very  responsive ;  but 
sometimes  it  strikes  me  that  her  love  for  Sybil  makes 
Lois  just  a  little  selfish,  though  she  would  be  horrified 
if  any  one  told  her  so." 

Maureen  had  a  pleasant  consciousness  that  afternoon 
that  her  self-sacrifice  had  lifted  her  into  the  position  of 
a  family  heroine.  Every  one  seemed  occupied  with  her. 
She  had  hardly  settled  down  to  her  work  before  Entre- 
nous  limped  in  and  ensconced  himself  with  his  books 
and  blotting-pad  on  the  couch. 

"  You  can  go  on  talking,  it  won't  disturb  me,"  he 
said  benevolently;  but  to  his  sister's  surprise  he  soon 
joined  in  the  conversation. 

It  was  really  wonderful  the  comforting  things  that 


32  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

he  and  Irene  found  to  say.  They  simply  ignored  the 
dark  side,  and  only  drew  a  pleasant  and  lively  picture 
of  the  life  at  Branksmere ;  and  they  annotated  each  other's 
remarks,  following  up  each  cheerful  suggestion  with 
another  still  more  consolatory,  till  Maureen  felt  several 
degrees  happier. 

"  I  think  it  is  so  nice  to  feel  that  some  one  depends 
on  you,"  remarked  Irene,  softly.  "  I  always  knew  that 
you  were  Aunt  Margaret's  favourite,  though  she  tried 
.so  hard  to  hide  it;  and  of  course  after  this  you  will 
seem  to  belong  specially  to  her." 

"  Oh,  they  will  be  hand  in  glove,"  observed  Entre- 
nous,  who  was  drawing  devils  on  the  margin  of  his 
paper  by  way  of  improving  the  shining  hours.  "  Hold 
hard  a  moment,  I  have  got  such  a  splendid  old  Beelzebub, 
and  I  want  to  touch  him  up.  What  was  I  saying?  Oh 
yes,  that  you  and  Aunt  Peggy  will  be  bosom  friends. 
She  is  rather  a  superior  sort  of  old  girl,  you  know,  or 
the  governor  would  not  be  so  proud  of  her." 

"  Oh,  Harold,  please  do  not  call  him  the  governor," 
and  Irene  looked  quite  distressed;  she  was  really  so 
touchingly  Early  Victorian. 

"  But  he  does  not  often  say  it,  dear  " ;  for  Maureen 
never  liked  her  brother  to  be  blamed. 

"  Old  Pax  is  right,"  returned  Entre-nous,  regarding 
his  favourite  demon  with  great  satisfaction.  "  I  say, 
Chiffons,  you  had  better  make  hay  while  the  sun  shines. 
Aunt  Peg  is  a  woman-  of  property  now,  and  if  you  get 

into  her  good  graces "  But  Maureen  interrupted  him 

quite  indignantly. 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  be  so  absurd,  dear.  Don't 
let  him  talk  in  that  ridiculous  fashion,  Irene.  Aunt  Mar- 
garet's property  is  nothing  to  me ;  though  I  don't  believe 
she  is  really  so  rich  after  all." 

"  Oh  dear,  no,"  returned  Irene ;  "  but  she  is  very 
comfortably  off.  Father  often  says  so,  and  calls  her  a 
lucky  woman." 

"  Well,    it   was   an    unexpected    fluke    Mrs.    Rayner 


"You  Have  Been  Very  Good  About  It"  33 

leaving  her  the  house  and  all  that  money,"  observed 
Harold,  in  quite  a  serious  tone.  "  Aunt  Peggy  told  me 
herself  that,  though  the  old  lady  had  taken  such  a  fancy 
to  her,  and  shown  her  so  much  kindness  in  her  lifetime, 
she  never  expected  her  to  leave  her  anything  except  a 
hundred  pounds,  or  so,  and  that  she  almost  jumped  out 
of  her  chair  when  the  lawyer  told  her." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  laughed  Irene.  "  Aunt  Mar- 
garet was  quite  melodramatic  about  it;  but  it  was  really 
very  nice  of  the  dear  old  lady." 

"  But  she  had  really  no  one  belonging  to  her,  Irene ; 
her  children  were  dead." 

"  Yes,  the  invalid  daughter  died  a  year  or  two  after 
Aunt  Margaret  went  to  Branksmere.  She  was  such  a 
comfort  to  Mrs.  Rayner  at  that  time.  You  see  she  was 
with  her  eighteen  years,  and  they  were  almost  like  mother 
and  daughter,  and  Aunt  Margaret  always  seemed  so 
happy  with  her." 

"  If  only  Mrs.  Rayner  could  have  got  over  her  dis- 
like to  visitors,  at  least  to  people  staying  in  the  house," 
returned  Maureen.  "  You  know,  Irene,  during  all  those 
years  we  only  stayed  once  at  the  Garden  House,  and 
we  did  not  half  enjoy  it.  Aunt  Margaret  always  seemed 
so  afraid  of  our  talking  too  much  and  tiring  Mrs. 
Rayner.  I  think,  after  all,  Aunt  Margaret  must  have 
had  rather  a  dull  sort  of  life;"  and  Entre-nous's  em- 
phatic "  Rather  "  endorsed  this  remark. 

In  her  family's  opinion  Margaret  Brydon  had  done 
rather  a  fine  thing  in  refusing  to  be  a  burden  on  her' 
brother's  benevolence  and  in  asserting  her  intention  of 
working  for  her  own  livelihood.  The  couple  of  thousand 
pounds  which  was  all  her  father  could  leave  her  only 
brought  in  about  seventy  or  eighty  pounds  a  year. 

Mr.  Brydon  the  elder  had  died  a  comparatively 
poor  man.  Owing  to  unfortunate  speculation,  he  had 
lost  the  greater  part  of  his  life's  savings,  and  during 
his  latter  years  he  had  drawn  largely  from  his  capital. 

Daniel  Brydon,  who  was  devoted  to  his  sister,  had 

8 


34  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

pressed  her  most  earnestly  to  continue  to  live  at  the 
Homestead.  "  It  has  always  been  your  home,"  he  said, 
"  and  you  will  have  sufficient  money  for  your  own  wants. 
Anna  is  very  anxious  that  you  should  come;  you  have 
always  been  such  good  friends,  Peggy."  But  Margaret 
shook  her  head. 

"  No,  dear ;  no,  my  dear  brother.  I  am  very  grateful 
to  you  and  Anna,  too,  but  I  will  not  be  a  burden  on  my 
own  folk  as  long  as  I  have  health  and  strength  to  work. 
I  already  have  a  niche  offered  to  me,  and  I  have  made 
up  my  mind  to  try  it."  And  when  Margaret  spoke  in 
that  tone  Daniel  knew  well  that  nothing  would  turn  her 
from  her  purpose. 

"  Have  your  own  way,  Peg,"  he  said,  a  little  sadly. 
And  Margaret  took  it,  and  if  her  life  for  the  next  few 
years  was  dull  and  uneventful,  she  certainly  never  com- 
plained of  it  or  of  her  environment. 


IV 

MARGARET  BRYDON 

His  life-work  may  be  a  failure  from  human  standpoints, 
even  from  his  own;  and  yet  an  invisible  something  has  been 
added  by  him  to  the  priceless  stock  of  human  work  and  fidelity. 
This  general  truth  is  a  consolation  to  lift  us  over  many  a  stage 
of  broken  and  disappointed  hope. — L.  L.  ELIOT. 

AFTER  the  first,  Daniel  Brydon  grew  mo^e  reconciled 
to  his  sister's  stoical  determination  to  work  for  her 
own  maintenance,  and  in  his  secret  heart  he  applauded 
her  for  her  sturdy  independence.  As  his  children  grew 
up  and  his  expenses  increased,  he  owned  more  than 
once  to  himself  that  Margaret  had  done  a  wise  thing; 
and  as  she  seemed  perfectly  content  with  her  life,  and 
had  become  much  attached  to  Mrs.  Rayner,  who,  indeed, 
after  her  daughter's  death  treated  her  like  her  own-  child, 
there  was  certainly  no  room  for  regret. 

Margaret  spent  all  her  holidays  at  the  Homestead, 
and  was  much  appreciated  by  her  nephews  and'  nieces ; 
but  from  the  first  she  had  shown  a  decided  preference 
for  Maureen,  whose  breezy,  sunshiny  nature  seemed  to 
attract  her,  and  she  had  more  than  once  deplored  to 
her  brother  that  she  could  not  have  Maureen  more  with 
her  on  account  of  Mrs.  Rayner's  infirmities  and  failing 
health. 

When,  after  eighteen  years  of  faithful  devotion  on 
the  one  side  and  clinging  affection  on  the  other,  Mrs. 
Rayner's  suffering  life  was  ended,  her  friends  and  neigh- 
bours were  not  greatly  surprised  to  find  that  she  had  left 
her  house  and  a  comfortable  income  to  her  companion. 

Mrs.  Rayner  wronged  no  one,  they  said ;  she  had 
every  right  to  dispose  of  her  money  as  she  liked.  Her 
children  were  dead,  and  her  only  surviving  relatives 
were  some  distant  cousins  in  America — well-to-do  people 

55 


36  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

who  needed  no  money,  and  Daniel  Brydon  was  the  first 
to  point  this  out  to  Margaret. 

The  income  was  strictly  settled  on  her  for  her  own- 
use,  and  during  her  lifetime  she  was  forbidden  to  share 
or  divide  it.  Daniel  smiled -quietly  to  himself  as  he  read 
the  clause.  Margaret  was  also  prohibited  from  selling 
the  house.  But  when  she  expressed  her  regret  that 
she  was  unable  to  do  as  she  liked  with  the  money,  her 
brother  refused  to  endorse  it. 

"  I  could  have  helped  Clive  to  go  to  Oxford,"  she 
had  said  seriously  to  him ;  "  there  were  so  many  things 
that  I  could  have  done  for  you  and  the  boys.  But  Mr. 
Torrance  tells  me  that  I  shall  only  have  enough  to  keep 
up  the  house  and  garden  as  dear  Mrs.  Rayner  liked  to 
see  them  " ;  and  it  was  evident  that  this  was  a  matter 
of  strong  regret  to  Margaret,  for  she  had  a  generous 
nature,  and  would  have  loved  to  share  her  good  things 
with  her  brother's  family. 

Margaret  Brydon  had  never  been  good-looking  even 
in  her  youth,  and  Anna  had  more  than  once  told  her 
laughingly  that  she  was  cut  out  for  an  old  maid;  but  it 
was  also  true  that,  though  she  had  no  beauty  of  feature, 
there  was  a  charm  and  atmosphere  about  her  that  made 
her  attractive  to  some  men. 

After  Margaret  had  been  a  year  or  two  at  Branks- 
mere,  a  little  bird  had  brought  certain  vague  reports  to 
the  Homestead  which  Daniel  pooh-poohed,  but  to  which 
Anna  listened  rather  greedily. 

A  certain  Mr.  Torrance,  a  solicitor  in  fair  practice, 
and  highly  esteemed  by  his  friends  and  clients,  was  un- 
doubtedly paying  attention  to  Mrs.  Rayner's  companion. 

Mr.  Torrance  made  business  a  pretext  for  going 
frequently  to  the  Garden  House.  He  often  met  Miss 
Brydon  in  the  village — a  not  impossible  circumstance, 
as  the  windows  of  his  house  looked  out  on  the  High 
Street  and  Church  Road — and  he  would  walk  with  her 
to  her  own  door.  But  at  this  point  Daniel  had  refused 
to  hear  more. 


Margaret  Brydon  37 

"  How  could  you  listen  to  that  women,  Anna  ?  "  he 
said,  rather  irritably ;  "  every  one  knows  Mrs.  O'Brien 
is  a  gossip,  and  she  is  rarely  accurate  in  her  statements. 
How  disgusted  Margaret  would  be  if  she  heard  of  the 
rubbish  with  which  Mrs.  O'Brien  was  regaling  our  ears 
this  morning."  But  Anna  only  smiled  at  her  husband's 
reproof. 

"  I  only  hope  it  is  true,"  she  said  softly.  "  Margaret 
would  make  such  a  lovely  wife,  if  she  only  cared  for 
some  one."  But  Daniel  made  no  answer  to  this. 

Anna  said  no  more  on  the  subject,  but  for  a  month 
or  two  she  awaited  Margaret's  weekly  letters  with  con- 
cealed eagerness;  but  when  Daniel  handed  them  for  her 
perusal  there  was  no  special  news  to  electrify  the  family 
with — evidently  nothing  had  happened. 

Then  Margaret  came  for  a  long  visit,  and  Anna  felt 
mpre  mystified  than  ever.  Margaret  was  not  exactly 
uncheerful,  but  she  was  thinner  and  certainly  graver  in 
manner.  Even  in  those  six  months  she  had  grown  older 
and  more  staid. 

"  There  has  been  something,"  Anna  said  to  herself 
that  first  night,  "  but  we  shall  never  know  anything 
more  about  it ;  Margaret  is  not  the  woman  to  talk  about 
her  troubles."  And  Mrs.  Brydon  was  right. 

Something  had  happened,  certainly — one  of  those 
vague,  shadowy  happenings  which  glide  ghost-like  across 
some  women's  lives,  and  rob  them  of  their  dearest  hopes 
and  illusions,  and  for  which  the  poor  souls  are  hardly 
to  blame. 

"  Any  one  could  have  made  the  mistake,"  thought 
Margaret,  but  she  spoke  in  humility,  not  bitterness ;  and, 
after  all,  it  was  the  man  who  was  in  fault. 

At  one  time  Henry  Torrance  had  really  believed 
himself  in  love  with  Margaret.  She  was  not  handsome, 
but  her  society  was  pleasant  to  him,  and  it  pleased  and 
soothed  his  masculine  vanity  to  see  how  she  brightened 
up  at  his  appearance,  and  how  kindly  her  eyes  welcomed 
him.  Margaret  had  beautiful  eyes;  they  were  of  a  clear 


38  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

hazel  and  very  soft  and  full  of  expression,  and  perhaps 
Margaret  herself  hardly  knew  how  eloquent  they  could 
become. 

How  did  it  all  happen  ?  How  do  such  things  happen  ? 
A  few  impulsive  words  on  the  man's  side,  meant  at  the 
moment  and  quite  sincere ;  an  interrupted  conversation 
that  was  becoming  decidedly  critical;  then  the  business 
call  to  London,  and  the  accident  which  detained  Henry 
Torrance  for  so  many  weeks  in  a  nursing  home. 

Was  it  the  man's  fault  or  Margaret's  misfortune 
that  the  nurse  who  waited  upon  him  had  one  of  the 
loveliest  faces  he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life,  and  a  gentle, 
refined  manner  that  told  him  that  she  was  a  gentle- 
woman? Was  it  the  irony  of  fate  that  Henry  Torrance 
should  be  laid  there  in  his  helplessness,  unable  to  free 
himself  from  his  own  toils?  Poor  Margaret! 

"  I  never  said  anything  definite,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self, as  he  tossed  restlessly  on  his  pillows,  unable  to 
sleep  for  pain.  "  We  were  always  good  friends ;  she 
knew  I  liked  to  talk  to  her,  she  is  so  bright  and  intelli- 
gent; but  I  never  told  her  outright  that  I  loved  her." 
:'  Five  minutes  more  and  you  would  have  asked  her  to 
be  your  wife,"  whispered  the  inexorable  voice  of  con- 
science ;  "  and  if  you  did  not  tell  her  outright  that  you 
loved  her,  you  assuredly  made  her  believe  that  you  did  " 
— and  Henry  Torrance  groaned  afresh.  "  I  like  her  still, 
but  I  cannot  marry  her  now;  I  cannot — I  dare  not,"  he 
went  on.  "  If  I  marry  any  one  it  will  not  be  Margaret." 
And  Henry  Torrance  kept  his  word. 

A  few  months  later,  Daniel  handed  his  wife  the  morn- 
ing paper  that  he  had  been  reading,  and  pointed  silently 
to  the  paragraph  which  had  attracted  his  attention. 

TORRANCE — STEELE. — On  September  5,  at  St.  Jude's,  South- 
sea,  by  the  Rev.  Walter  Keeley,  Henry  Lionel  Torrance,  only 
son  of  the  late  Richard  Torrance,  of  the  Old  Grey  House, 
Branksmere,  to  Esther,  the  only  child  of  the  late  Major  Steele, 
Royal  Army  Medical  Corps. 


39 

Two  years  later  there  was  another  announcement: 

On  October  3,  at  the  Old  Grey  House,  Branksmere,  Esther, 
the  beloved  wife  of  Henry  Torrance,  aged  twenty-seven. 

And  the  following  day  the  death  of  an  infant  daughter 
was  also  recorded. 

Poor  Henry  Torrance  with  his  short-lived  happiness ! 
Esther,  with  her  Madonna-like  beauty  and  gentle  ways — 
his  Fleur-de-Lys,  as  her  husband  had  fondly  called  her 
— lay  in  her  quiet  grave  in  St.  Cyprian's  churchyard, 
with  her  new-born  baby  at  her  breast,  and  the  Old 
Grey  House  was  a  house  of  mourning. 

Mrs.  Brydon  had  never  changed  her  opinion,  and  as 
time  went  on  she  was  still  more  convinced  that  the 
blighting  influence  which  had  robbed  Margaret  of  her 
secret  hopes  had  not  left  her  unscathed.  In  spite  of 
her  apparent  cheerfulness,  her  sister-in-law's  affectionate 
solicitude  often  detected  a  strained,  weary  look  when  she 
thought  herself  unobserved,  and  now  and  then  a  furtive 
sigh  followed  the  laugh  which  was  hardly  as  clear  and 
ringing  as  usual.  But  Anna  never  hinted  this  to  Daniel : 
it  would  have  pained  him  too  much  to  think  all  was  not 
right  with  his  dear  Peggy. 

When  Henry  Torrance  became  a  widower,  certain 
vague  hopes  stirred  in  Anna's  mind.  Men  often  con- 
soled themselves.  The  greater  their  past  wedded  bliss, 
the  more  unbearable  their  present  loneliness.  But  she 
kept  these  thoughts  to  herself. 

But  nearly  fourteen  years  had  passed  since  then,  and 
as  far  as  she  could  find  out,  Henry  showed  no  inclina- 
tion to  take  to  himself  another  wife.  Margaret  often 
mentioned  him  in  her  letters.  He  came  frequently  to 
the  Garden  House,  and  they  seemed  excellent  friends. 
"  Mr.  Torrence  seems  our  only  visitor,"  she  wrote  once, 
"  for  Mrs.  Rayner  never  invites  any  one  now ;  people 
seem  to  tire  her  so.  But  I  do  not  think  Mr.  Torrance 
is  ever  in  the  way,  and  she  does  so  depend  on  him  for 
everything." 


40  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

By  and  by,  when  the  Rayners'  grim  old  vault  was 
opened  to  receive  its  last  descendant,  Margaret  seemed 
to  see  almost  as  much  of  Mr.  Torrance. 

"  I  really  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without  him," 
she  wrote  one  day  about  two  months  after  Mrs.  Rayner's 
death.  "  There  are  so  many  troublesome  little  business 
complications  which  I  do  not  in  the  least  understand; 
but  Mr.  Torrance  is  so  kind,  and  takes  such  trouble  in 
explaining  things  to  my  limited  comprehension." 

After  this  there  were  frequent  allusions  to  him.  "  Mr. 
Torrance  thinks  I  ought  to  keep  on  old  Giles,"  she  wrote, 
"  though  he  is  really  not  quite  up  to  his  work.  He  does 
so  forget  tilings.  I  tell  him  his  head  is  like  a  sieve; 
and  he  only  nods  assent  and  grins  and  shows  his  tooth- 
less old  gums.  When  I  pointed  out  to  him  the  disgrace- 
ful condition  of  the  path  down  by  the  herbaceous  border, 
which  dear  Mrs.  Rayner  used  to  call  her  Madeira  Walk, 
because  the  high  wall  sheltered  it  so,  and  which,  owing 
to  his  carelessness,  is  quite  green  with  weeds,  and  more 
like  a  duck-pond  than  a  garden  path,  he  just  scratched 
his  old  head  and  muttered,  '  Drat  them  old  weeds ! ' 
But  I  think,  don't  you,  Dan,  that  some  one  else  ought 
to  be  dratted?  I  hope  that  is  not  a  very  naughty  word, 
dear,  but  I  never  could  make  out  what  it  meant;  to  me 
it  is  just  a  slum  word  and  nothing  more.  Well,  I  sup- 
pose Mr.  Torrance  is  right,  and  it  would  not  do  to  turn 
off  an  old  servant;  so  Giles  must  daunder  through  his 
day's  duties,  and  I  must  get  some  strong  young  fellow 
to  help  him." 

Mrs.  Brydon  seldom  made  any  comment  on  these 
letters ;  she  merely  said  once  that  Margaret  was  evi- 
dently recovering  her  spirits,  and  that  when  she  had  put 
her  affairs  in  order  she  must  pay  them  a  long  visit.  For 
Margaret  had  felt  the  loss  of  her  old  friend  keenly. 
Eighteen  years  of  companionship  had  drawn  them  closely 
together,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  had  told  Henry  Torrance 
the  very  night  before  her  death  that  she  had  blessed 
the  hour  that  Margaret  Brydon  had  come  to  her.  "  I 


Margaret  Brydon  41 

expect  Margaret  would  endorse  this,"  he  thought,  as 
he  remembered  certain  clauses  of  Mrs.  Rayner's  will. 

Mrs.  Brydon  wondered  sometimes  if  Margaret  had 
forgotten  her  old  trouble,  whatever  it  might  have  been. 
She  thought  the  position  a  little  strange.  But  in  reality 
it  was  all  perfectly  simple.  Margaret,  if  she  had  chosen, 
could  have  explained  the  whole  in  a  very  few  words. 
She  had  not  forgotten — she  never  would  forget — but 
at  the  same  time  there  was  nothing  to  remember.  A 
mistake,  a  misapprehension  can  hardly  be  definitely 
defined. 

Fate,  or  rather  Providence — for  Margaret  objected 
to  the  heathenish  word — had  ordained,  and  doubtless 
for  wise  purposes,  that  the  love  her  nature  specially 
craved  should  be  denied  her.  But  was  that  any  reason 
why  she  should  whine  and  complain  like  a  fretful  child 
deprived  of  some  coveted  treasure? 

If  she  could  not  have  the  best,  she  must  try  and 
content  herself  with  the  other  good  things  which  re- 
mained to  her.  If  Henry  Torrance's  love  was  denied 
her,  she  could  be  sure  of  his  friendship.  Margaret  was 
a  woman  intensely  capable  of  friendship,  she  had  a  sort 
of  genius  for  it ;  and,  contrary  to  most  people,  she  some- 
how contrived  to  eliminate  little  feminine  vanities  and 
jealousies,  and  to  free  it  from  any  embarrassing  adjuncts. 
In  other  and  plainer  words,  she  could  be  a  man's  good 
comrade  and  never  treat  him  to  little  sentimental  side- 
shows ;  it  was  not  her  nature  to  pose,  and  she  had  too 
much  dignity  to  dress  for  any  part  but  her  own. 

If  in  her  faithful  heart  she  still  retained  some  special 
tenderness  for  Henry  Torrance,  certainly  no  one,  not 
even  he  himself,  guessed  it.  Her  cordial  welcome,  bright 
sympathy,  and  undisguised  pleasure  in  his  society  never 
gave  him  any  such  suspicion.  Now  and  then  he  told 
himself  vaguely  that  Margaret  was  very  good  to  him, 
and  that,  on  the  whole,  he  was  happier  than  he  ever 
expected  to  be. 

He  still  cherished  the  memory  of  his  beautiful  young 


142  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

wife,  and  the  idea  of  giving  the  Old  Grey  House  another 
mistress  never  seriously  entered  his  head.  He  had 
grown  used  to  his  quiet  ways,  and  was  a  little  precise 
and  methodical  in  his  arrangements.  His  excellent  cook- 
housekeeper  made  him  sufficiently  comfortable. 

"  Joanna  is  a  treasure,"  he  would  say  sometimes  to 
Margaret. 

"  We  have  our  treasures  in  earthen  vessels,"  she 
remarked  once,  when  he  had  made  this  observation  more 
solemnly  than  usual.  "  Joanna  is  a  good  woman,  but 
she  is  not  perfect,  and  you  must  put  your  foot  down 
firmly  if  she  gives  you  boiled  mutton  quite  so  often; 
and  if  you  like  you  can  tell  her  that  I  said  so  " — which 
speech  most  certainly  proved  that  Margaret  was  on 
very  friendly  terms  with  the  family  adviser. 


V 

"A  FEMALE  CURTIUS" 

I  am  not  bound  to  make  the  world  go  right, 

But  only  to  discover  and  to  do, 

With  cheerful  heart,  the  work  that  God  appoints. 

JEAN  INGELOW. 

God  sends  great  angels  in  our  sore  dismay, 
But  little  ones  go  in  and  out  all  day. 

F.  LANGBRIDGE. 

THE  letter  which  had  made  such  a  sensation  in  the 
family  circle  had  been  expected  by  the  heads  of  the 
house  for  months.  Margaret  had  hinted  more  than  once 
during  her  flying  visits  to  the  Homestead  that  she  would 
soon  be  glad  to  have  one  of  her  nieces  to  keep  her 
company,  and  Mrs.  Brydon  had  several  times  expressed 
her  surprise  to  her  husband  that  Margaret  had  said  no 
more  on  the  subject. 

But  Margaret,  who  seldom  acted  as  other  people 
expected,  was  only  biding  her  time. 

She  felt  the  loss  of  her  dear  old  friend  acutely,  and 
for  the  first  few  months  after  Mrs.  Rayner's  death  she 
preferred  her  own  company.  She  was  extremely  busy, 
as  the  Garden  House  was  old  and  some  structural  re- 
pairs were  necessary.  The  little  stable  and  coach-house, 
where  Margaret's  pony  and  governess  cart  were  housed, 
were  sadly  dilapidated,  and  the  house  itself  required 
painting  and  repapering.  During  the  latter  years  of 
her  life  Mrs.  Rayner  had  disliked  the  sight  of  a  work- 
man, and  in  consequence  things  were  in  a  bad  state. 

Under  these  circumstances,  Margaret  preferred  to  be 
alone.  But  she  spent  a  few  days  now  and  then  at  the 
Homestead,  and  pleased  herself  by  taking  out  her  nieces 
on  shopping  expeditions,  and  choosing  smart  hats  and 
jackets  for  them.  On  these  occasions  she  was  strictly 

43 


44  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

impartial,  and  Ivy,  for  whom  she  cared  least,  had  her 
full  share  of  Aunt  Margaret's  bounties. 

During  the  earlier  part  of  their  married  life  the  Bry- 
don's  dinner-hour  had  been  the  signal  for  the  children 
to  retire  upstairs;  but  as  they  grew  older,  first  one  and 
then  another  joined  their  parents,  and  at  last  even  Ivy 
took  her  place  beside  her  father.  And  as  Daniel  Brydon 
looked  at  the  bright  young  faces  surrounding  him,  he 
often  thought  it  was  the  most  enjoyable  meal  of  the  day. 
And  "  the  dinner  of  herbs,"  as  he  would  term  it  some- 
times, was  more  palatable  to  him  that  a  city  feast. 

There  were  certainly  few  luxuries  at  the  Homestead, 
for  the  housekeeping  purse  was  somewhat  limited,  and 
youthful  appetites  had  to  be  largely  satisfied;  but,  thanks 
to  Irene's  excellent  management,  the  simple  meal  was 
always  well  cooked  and  appetising;  and  as  Mr.  Brydon 
was  no  epicure,  and  was  always  more  ready  to  praise 
than  to  blame,  there  was  very  little  grumbling  to  be 
heard  at  the  dinner-table. 

Sometimes  Lois,  who  was  rather  fanciful,  would  beg 
her  father  not  to  help  her  so  largely.  Then  Daniel 
Brydon  would  lay  down  his  carving  knife  and  fork  and 
look  at  her  in  sorrowful  reproval. 

"You  are  taking  away  my  appetite,  Lois,"  he  ob- 
served once.  "  How  is  a  man  to  enjoy  the  good  food 
that  Providence  sends  him  if  he  sees  his  child  unable  to 
eat?  Anna,  my  love,  if  this  goes  on  we  must  have  Dr. 
Evans  round — a  stitch  in  time,  you  know."  Then  Lois, 
crimson  with  annoyance  under  this  banter,  and  secretly 
jogged  by  Sybil's  elbow,  would  set  herself  to  demolish 
the  viands  on  her  plate.  To  do  Daniel  Brydon  justice, 
he  always  carved  for  Lois  miore  carefully  than  for  the 
rest  of  the  family. 

People  always  called  Daniel  Brydon  an  insignificant 
little  man,  and  they  would  often  add  that  he  was  a  great 
contrast  to  his  handsome  wife.  He  was  certainly  rather 
short  in  stature,  but  he  had  a  well-bred  air  and  a  certain 
alert  ease  of  carriage  which  redeemed  him  from  insignifi- 


"A  Female  Curtius"  45 

cance.  His  face  was  thin  and  sallow  like  Margaret's, 
but  his  mouth  was  distinctly  good,  and  there  was  a  look 
of  power  about  his  brow  and  the  quiet  grey  eyes  which 
could  read  people  so  accurately,  and  which  seldom  let 
anything  escape  them. 

Nervous,  fussy  clients  found  themselves  mastered 
and  soothed  in  a  most  incomprehensible  way.  A  few 
words,  a  question  or  two  had  somehow  done  the  business. 

One  irate  spinster,  soured  by  contact  with  an  un- 
appreciative  world,  had  called  once  at  Mr.  Brydon's  office 
for  some  alterations  to  be  made  in  her  will.  She  was 
so  brimming  over  with  excitement  and  the  desire  for 
revenge  that  she  was  slightly  incoherent,  and  Mr.  Bry- 
don  stopped  her  with  a  quiet  gesture. 

"  If  you  please,  we  will  take  one  thing  at  a  time, 
Miss  Beckwith.  Will  you  kindly  give  me  the  Christian 
name  of  the  cousin  you  are  desirous  to  strike  out  of 
your  will  ?  "  And  the  woman,  who  was  absolutely  shak- 
ing with  suppressed  rage,  pulled  herself  together  and 
answered  him  like  a  reasonable  person. 

Somehow,  before  the  conversation  was  ended,  Miss 
Beckwith  was  persuaded  to  let  things  stand  for  a  while. 
"  You  have  only  to  wire  and  I  will  come  down  any  time 
and  settle  the  business  for  you,"  observed  Mr.  Brydon, 
as  he  shook  hands  cordially  with  her.  "  I  expect  your 
cousin  will  apologise,  and  then  you  will  be  glad  you  took 
my  advice." 

Poor  Miss  Beckwith  never  sent  for  her  solicitor; 
neither  did  she  live  many  months  after  that  little  episode. 

The  cousin,  who  was  poor  and  proud,  regretted 
bitterly  that  he  and  Rachel  had  parted  bad  friends.  "  I 
wish  I  had  made  it  up  with  her,  and  told  her  I  never 
really  meant  what  I  said,"  he  thought,  remorsefully,  as 
he  went  back  to  his  home  a  richer  and  a  sadder  man. 
For  unmerited  blessings  sometimes  bruise  as  well  as 
heal,  and  Claude  Beckwith  would  have  given  much  to 
remember  that  he  had  made  a  lonely  woman's  life 
happier. 


46  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

When  Daniel  Brydon  let  himself  into  his  house  with 
his  latch-key  that  evening,  he  found  Maureen  lying  in 
wait  for  him,  and  his  eyes  brightened.  If  Irene  was  her 
mother's  girl,  Maureen  was  her  father's,  and  she  herself 
was  pleasantly  aware  of  this  fact. 

"  Maureen  and  I  are  famous  chums,"  he  said  once, 
when  she  was  a  mere  child. 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  are  nice  and  chummy,"  answered  the 
small  girl,  with  great  seriousness. 

"  Where  is  your  mother  ?  "  he  asked,  as  Maureen  put 
up  her  face  to  be  kissed,  a  habit  she  had  retained  from 
childhood;  for  Daniel  always  looked  round  for  his  wife 
at  once. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  hindered  mother  this  afternoon," 
returned  Maureen,  "  and  she  had  so  many  letters  to  write 
that  she  has  only  just  finished  now  and  gone  upstairs  to 
dress.  Dinner  will  be  a  little  later  this  evening,  father, 
for  something  has  gone  wrong  with  the  oven  and  Mar- 
tin is  so  cross.  Martin  is  always  cross  when  accidents 
happen." 

"  So  are  many  people,  my  dear."  And  then  Maureen 
ushered  him  into  the  morning-room,  which  Irene  had 
left  so  trim  and  tidy.  Harold  and  the  twins  were  in 
the  drawing-room,  and  she  wanted  to  have  her  father 
to  herself  for  a  few  minutes — rather  a  difficult  thing  to 
achieve  when  Ninian  and  Ivy  were  always  rushing  in 
and  spoiling  sport. 

Mr.  Brydon  was  quite  willing  to  be  detained  for 
a  few  minutes  before  he  went  upstairs  to  his  dressing- 
room  ;  he  was  tired,  and  had  had  rather  a  worrying  day. 
He  threw  himself  into  the  easy-chair  with  an  air  of 
relief,  and  Maureen  planted  herself  on  one  of  the  sub- 
stantial arms.  But  her  first  remark  was  rather  irrelevant. 

"  Dad,  do  you  know  you  are  getting  bald  ?  There  is 
actually  a  little  bare  place  the  size  of  half-a-crown " ; 
and  Maureen  laid  a  gentle  finger  on  the  spot. 

"  I  daresay,"  returned  Mr.  Brydon,  placidly.  "  Jessop 
was  saying  so  only  yesterday  when  he  was  cutting  my 


"A  Female  Curtius"  47[ 

hair.  I  am  nearly  fifty-two;  please  remember  that, 
young  lady." 

"  Oh,  but  I  don't  want  you  to  get  bald,"  returned 
Maureen,  playfully,  but  she  was  serious,  too.  "  Some- 
how, I  can  never  imagine  you  and  mother  being  really 
old.  I  know  mother  will  be  a  handsome,  stately  old 
lady,  but " 

"  Yes,  and  I  shall  be  a  dried-up,  withered  old  chap," 
returned  Mr.  Brydon.  "  No  fear  of  my  getting  fat. 
But  here  we  are  chattering  nonsense,  and  I  want  to 
know  if  you  and  your  mother  have  settled  anything 
with  regard  to  your  Aunt  Margaret's  letter."  Mr.  Bry- 
don never  beat  about  the  bush :  he  asked  a  straight  ques- 
tion and  expected  a  straight  answer. 

"  Oh  yes,"  observed  Maureen,  with  a  sigh  of  self- 
pity,  "  we  have  all  of  us  been  talking  hard  nearly  all 
day.  Of  course  we  settled  that  I  was  the  one  to  go 
to  Aunt  Margaret.  I  think  that  was  a  foregone  con- 
clusion from  the  first.  No  one  else  seemed  ready  to  go, 
and  we  think  Aunt  Margaret  wanted  me." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  of  that,"  returned  Mr.  Brydon. 
During  the  day  he  had  more  than  once  chuckled  in- 
wardly at  the  remembrance  of  Peggy's  masterly  post- 
script. "  Well,  my  dear,  I  think  you  have  decided  quite 
rightly.  It  is  rather  unselfish  of  me  to  say  so,  for  I 
shall  miss  you  terribly;  but  I  cannot  help  thinking  it 
will  be  for  your  benefit  in  the  long  run." 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  should  say  that,  father ;  I 
could  never  be  so  happy  anywhere  as  I  am  at  home." 

"  That  is  good  hearing,   Maureen." 

"  But  it  is  the  truth,"  she  returned,  earnestly,  in  her 
sincere  young  voice ;  "  I  could  never  want  to  leave  you 
and  mother  and  Harold."  Then  Mr.  Brydon  patted 
the  little  brown  hand  very  kindly.  His  nature  was  more 
demonstrative  than  his  wife's,  and  at  certain  moments 
he  was  capable  of  great  softness  with  her  and  his 
children. 

"  That  makes  me  all  the  more  proud  of  a  certain 


48  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

brave  little  woman,"  was  the  reply.  And  then  he  con- 
tinued more  gravely :  "  I  see  you  are  making  a  real 
sacrifice,  Maureen,  and  that  you  have  no  wish  to  leave 
home;  but  I  cannot  help  being  glad  that  you  have 
made  up  your  mind  to  do  this  thing,  because  I  feel 
that  we  all  owe  a  duty  to  your  Aunt  Margaret.  I  do 
not  think  a  lonely  life  suits  her.  She  is  a  large-hearted 
woman,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  she  will  be  very  grateful 
to  you  for  the  sacrifice  you  are  making,  and  that  she 
will  do  everything  in  her  power  to  make  you  happy." 

"  I  told  mother  that  I  knew  that  you  would  wish 
me  to  go,"  returned  Maureen,  looking  up  into  her 
father's  face  rather  wistfully,  "  and  I  am  doing  it  for  all 
your  sakes." 

'"'  Then  for  all  our  sakes  I  thank  you,  darling,"  he 
said,  kissing  her  with  unusual  affection.  "  Now  I  must 
really  go."  And  Maureen  smiled  and  nodded.  His 
words  had  strengthened  and  comforted  her.  Both  her 
parents  were  pleased  with  her,  but  her  father  had  said 
the  most. 

He  had  called  her  "  a  brave  little  woman "  and 
*'  darling,"  and  had  told  her  that  she  was  making  a  real 
sacrifice;  and  when  Maureen  was  praised  by  any  one 
she  loved,  it  was  pathetic  to  see  how  she  strove  to  live 
up  to  that  person's  good  opinion.  "  To  be  a  heroine  one 
must  live  like  one,"  she  had  observed  once  to  her  Aunt 
Margaret,  and  Margaret  had  replied  a  little  drily  that 
she  never  could  imagine  how  a  heroine  felt.  "  It  is 
quite  clear  that  I  shall  never  be  one  myself,"  she  ob- 
served, "  and  I  don't  think  that  you  will  be  one  either, 
Maury  dear  " — which  was  slightly  crushing  to  her  young 
hearer. 

Maureen  was  not  quite  sure  that  she  entirely  en- 
dorsed this  remark.  Certainly  on  that  eventful  evening 
she  felt  as  though  she  were  first  cousin  once  removed 
to  a  heroine,  for  why  was  she  such  an  object  of  interest 
to  the  whole  family,  and  why  did  every  one  make  so 
much  of  her? 


"A  Female  Curtius"  49 

"  They  think  I  am  doing  rather  a  fine  thing-,"  thought 
Maureen,  with  modest  pride ;  for  her  bump  of  self- 
esteem  was  well  developed,  and  it  was  a  melancholy 
satisfaction  to  see  for  herself  how  the  family  circle  would 
miss  her. 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  watch  my  own  funeral," 
she  observed  once  to  her  Aunt  Margaret;  but  Margaret 
had  quite  shuddered  at  the  idea. 

"  How  can  you  say  or  even  think  such  a  thing ! "  she 
returned,  in  a  shocked  voice.  "  I  could  not  imagine 
anything  more  terrible.  To  see  one's  dearest  friends 
grieving  and  breaking  their  hearts  with  sorrow  and  not 
to  be  able  to  comfort  them,  or  to  whisper  in  their  ears 
that  all  is  well  with  us,  and  all  the  time  the  clods  of 
earth  are  falling  on  our  coffin.  Oh,  Maureen,  you  can- 
not mean  it  ? "  And  she  was  right.  Maureen  did 
not  always  care  to  be  brought  to  book  for  her  odd 
speeches. 

Even  Ninian  left  off  teasing  Ivy,  and  paid  Maureen 
some  attention  that  evening.  That  lout  of  a  boy,  as 
his  brothers  called  him,  seemed  bent  on  making  himself 
agreeable. 

Ninian  was  only  sixteen,  but  he  was  already  taller 
than  Harold.  He  was  a  fair-haired,  blue-eyed  young 
giant  who  had  not  yet  learned  to  manage  his  own  limbs, 
but  he  promised  to  be  a  fine-looking  fellow  in  time.  He 
went  to  St.  Paul's  School,  but  his  devotion  to  cricket 
and  football  was  greater  than  his  love  of  study.  With- 
out being  a  dunce,  he  was  far  from  brilliant,  and  there 
was  not  a  remote  chance  of  his  ever  gaining  a  scholarship. 

"  He  is  rightly  named  Ninny,"  Harold  remarked 
once  with  a  brother's  brutal  frankness ;  "  he  will  never 
score  anything  except  ''n  the  playground.  I  don't  know 
what  the  governor  will  do  with  him."  But  Ninian  only 
grinned  in  his  good-humoured,  stolid  way. 

"  He  had  better  send  me  to  Canada,"  was  his  reply. 
Two  or  three  of  our  fellows  are  going  this  autumn. 
Feel  this  muscle,  old  fellow,"  and  Ninian  bared  his  arm; 

4 


' 


50  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"that  would  fell  a  tree — rather.  You  tell  dad  that  I 
am  just  the  chap  for  a  ranch.  I  am  not  going  into 
any  beastly  old  office,  not  if  I  know  it."  And  Ninian, 
in  a  slightly  cracked  voice,  began  singing  a  verse  of 
Irene's  last  new  song  in  such  a  discordant  and  ear- 
piercing  manner  that  the  whole  family  rose  up  bodily 
and  jeered  him  out  of  the  room. 

Maureen  played  ping-pong  with  Ninian,  and  Ivy  and 
the  Tweenies  watched  them ;  but  Maureen,  who  hated 
the  game,  and  often  remarked  that  she  wished  it  had 
never  been  invented,  was  secretly  thankful  when  the 
evening  came  to  an  end. 

"  I  am  tired,"  she  said,  a  little  shortly,  as  she  closed 
the  door  of  communication  between  her  room  and  the 
twins,  "  and  I  mean  to  hurry  to  bed."  But  this  remark 
was  intended  for  Lois's  ears.  Lois  loved  to  dawdle 
and  chatter  in  an  aimless  way  with  any  sister  who  chose 
to  indulge  her. 

Maureen  had  carried  herself  bravely  all  the  evening, 
but  when  she  had  turned  off  the  gas  and  jumped  into 
bed,  she  drew  the  clothes  up  as  far  as  they  would  go, 
and  had  a  real  comfortable  little  cry.  She  felt  she  had 
earned  the  luxury;  it  cost  her  nothing;  no  one  would 
be  the  wiser,  and  it  would  do  her  good;  and  when  she 
at  last  thrust  a  moist  handkerchief  under  her  pillow,  she 
certainly  felt  relieved  and  more  ready  to  sleep.  "  But 
I  wish — I  wish  that  I  had  not  to  leave  home,"  she  sighed, 
as  she  turned  over  on  her  pillow ;  and  then  she  uttered 
a  startled  exclamation  as  a  white  figure  came  gliding 
towards  her. 

"  It  is  only  me,  Maury  dear,"  whispered  a  suppressed 
voice ;  "  but  Sybil  is  asleep,  and  I  don't  want  to  wake 
her.  I  did  not  mean  to  frighte*-  you  " ;  and  Lois  sat 
down  on  the  edge  of  her  sister's  bed. 

"  Any  one  would  have  been  startled,"  returned 
Maureen,  indignantly,  "  to  see  a  tall,  ghostly  figure  steal- 
ing out  of  the  darkness.  You  ought  not  to  walk  about 
with  bare  feet,  Lois;  you  will  take  a  bad  chill  one 
night." 


"A  Female  Curtius"  51 

"  I  am  not  very  cold,"  returned  Lois,  but  she  shivered 
a  little,  "  and  I  am  not  going  to  stay  long." 

The  room  was  not  wholly  dark,  as  the  reflection  of 
a  gas  lamp  was  thrown  on  the  walls,  and  Lois  in  her 
long  white  nightdress,  with  her  fair  hair  streaming  over 
her  shoulders,  looked  not  unlike  a  stray  angel  who  had 
wandered  into  a  human  habitation  by  mistake. 

"  You  will  catch  cold,"  repeated  Maureen ;  but  Lois 
only  huddled  up  her  feet  in  the  quilt  and  made  herself 
comfortable. 

"  I  had  to  come,"  she  said,  plaintively ;  "  I  could  not 
go  to  sleep  until  I  had  thanked  you  again,  Maury.  I 
can  tell  by  your  voice  that  you  have  been  crying,  and 
I  know  you  are  not  a  bit  happy  about  going  to  Aunt 
Margaret,  and  that  you  would  much  rather  stay  at 
home  with  us,  and  that  is  why  Sybil  and  I  think  you  are 
such  a  dear." 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so,  Lois." 

"  Of  course  we  think  so,  and  we  love  you  a  hundred 
times  more  than  we  ever  did.  I  quite  ache  with  grati- 
tude— I  do  indeed,  Maury;  and  I  want  to  say  a  lot  of 
nice  things." 

"  I  would  rather  you  left  them  until  to-morrow,  Lois," 
returned  Maureen,  sleepily. 

"  Oh,  but  one  can't  say  those  sort  of  things  in  the 
daylight — one  wants  a  comfortable,  creepy  darkness  when 
one  cannot  even  see  each  other's  faces.  Do  you  know 
what  Harold  said  to  Sybil  when  she  was  groaning  about 
your  going?  'Maureen's  a  regular  little  brick;  she  has 
never  hesitated  for  a  moment  really :  she  was  ready  to 
fling  herself  like  a  female  Curtius  into  the  family  breach.' 
I  thought  you  would  like  to  know  that." 

"  Yes,  dear ;  thank  you  for  telling  me  " ;  but  Maureen 
remembered  the  damp  ball  under  her  pillow  with  sudden 
shame.  What  would  Entre-nous  think  of  the  flood  of 
tears  that  she  had  shed?  But  even  heroines  have  their 
weak  moments. 

"  But  it  is  a  shame  to  wake  you  up  when  you  are 


52  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

so  sleepy,"  went  on  Lois,  penitently,  "  so  I  will  just  bid 
you  good-night  and  go."  Then  the  two  sisters  hugged 
each  other,  and  Lois  crept  back  to  her  warm  bed  feeling 
that  she  had  a  little  unburdened  herself;  while  Maureen 
whispered  to  herself: 

"  I  am  glad  Entre-nous  thinks  that  of  me  " ;  and  in 
a  few  minutes  the  day's  trouble  was  forgotten  as  the 
two  girls  passed  into  dreamland, 


VI 

POT-POURRI 

Let  mystery  have  its  place  in  you ;  do  not  be  always  turning 
up  your  whole  soil  with  the  ploughshare  of  self-examination, 
but  leave  a  little  fallow  corner  in  your  heart  ready  for  any 
seed  the  wind  may  bring,  and  reserve  a  nook  of  shadow  for 
the  passing  bird ;  keep  a  place  in  your  heart  for  the  unexpected 
guest,  an  altar  for  the  unknown  God. — HENRI  FREDERIC  AMIEL. 

HAROLD'S  magnificent  eulogy  had  acted  on  Maureen 
with  the  beneficial  effects  of  a  tonic ;  it  braced  and  nerved 
her  to  fresh  efforts.  If  that  was  really  the  opinion  of 
her  dearly  beloved  Entre-nous,  she  must  be  careful  not 
to  disappoint  him.  In  accordance  with  this  resolution 
she  took  more  pains  than  usual  with  her  appearance 
the  next  morning,  and  took  her  place  at  the  breakfast- 
table  with  such  outward  cheerfulness  and  composure  that 
Lois  regarded  her  with  silent  amazement.  But  Harold, 
as  he  returned  Maureen's  greeting",  noticed  the  heavy  eye- 
lids, and  the  shadow  under  the  eyes,  which  were  cer- 
tainly less  bright  than  usual ;  but  he  said  nothing  and 
seemed  wholly  engrossed  with  his  Daily  Graphic. 

The  conversation  was  not  as  lively  as  usual.  Ninian, 
who  breakfasted  earlier  than  the  rest  of  the  family,  had 
already  left  the  house ;  and  Ivy,  who  had  overslept  her- 
self, was  hurrying  full  speed  through  her  meal ;  the  twins 
talked  to  each  other  in  low  tones;  and  Irene  sat  beside 
her  mother,  assisting  her  as  usual ;  but  as  she  was  silently 
reviewing  the  day's  menu,  and  the  choice  between  rissoles 
and  hashed  mutton  weighed  heavily  on  her  mind,  she 
did  not  contribute  largely  to  the  conversation,  and  it 
was  Maureen  who  talked  to  her  father  in  her  old 
sprightly  way. 

Presently  Mr.  Brydon  addressed  his  wife.  "  Love," 
he  said,  quietly,  "have  you  and  Maureen  settled  any- 

53 


54  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

thing  definite  about  the  date  of  her  visit?  I  suppose 
you  will  be  writing  to  Peggy  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear ;  Maureen  and  I  both  intend  to  write  to 
her;  but  we  have  not  fixed  any  time  yet,"  and  Mrs. 
Brydon  looked  thoughtfully  at  her  daughter.  Her  hus- 
band was  absently  watching  the  little  brown  hands  which 
were  buttering  his  toast.  "  I  wonder  who  will  do  this 
for  me  after  you  have  gone,"  he  asked,  as  she  laid  it 
carefully  on  his  plate. 

"  Oh,  dad,  there  are  so  many  of  us  to  do  it !  "  ex- 
claimed Lois,  in  a  hurt  voice;  but  her  father  only  gave 
her  a  kind,  whimsical  smile  which  soothed  her  wounded 
amour  propre,  and  returned  to  the  subject. 

"  Peggy  never  likes  to  wait  long  for  her  good  things," 
he  observed ;  "  you  and  Maureen  had  better  settle  some 
date  as  soon  as  possible." 

Then  Maureen  turned  a  little  pale ;  but  as  her  mother 
gave  her  a  hesitating  glance,  she  proved  herself  equal 
to  the  occasion. 

"  Oh,  we  must  not  hurt  Aunt  Margaret  by  putting  it 
off  too  long,"  she  said,  bravely.  "  I  shall  be  ready  to 
go  whenever  mother  and  you  think  best."  Here  she 
faltered  a  moment  and  then  went  on  rather  breathlessly : 

"  There  is  not  so  much  to  be  done,  after  all,  but  I 
should  like  to  have  a  few  days.  Would  next  Wednes- 
day or  Thursday  do,  father;  that  will  be  just  upon  a 
week?" 

"  I  should  think  that  would  suit  all  parties  excel- 
lently," returned  Mr.  Brydon.  "  Do  you  agree,  mother?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  replied  his  wife.  "  But  it  is 
getting  late,  dearest,  and  you  will  lose  your  train." 

It  was  always  Mrs.  Brydon's  custom  to  go  to  the 
hall  door  with  her  husband.  She  had  done  it  from  her 
earliest  married  days  and  she  knew  that  he  would  not 
like  her  to  omit  this  little  attention.  Often  two  or  three 
of  the  girls  would  accompany  her,  and  bandy  jests  with 
their  father  until  he  was  out  of  hearing.  Those  little 
harmless  jokes  rang  sweetly  in  his  ears  as  he  went  forth 


Pot-Pourri  55 

to  his  day's  work;  but  his  last  look  was  always  for  the 
quiet,  stately  woman  on  the  threshold.  "  Queen  Anna," 
as  he  had  more  than  once  playfully  called  her,  "  sur- 
rounded by  her  merry  maids  of  honour " — Maureen 
always  the  merriest  of  them  all. 

Oh  the  sweetness  of  these  dear  old  family  customs, 
how  good  they  are  to  remember  when  one  grows  old 
and  the  green  graves  are  filled  in  the  quiet  gardens  of 
the  dead !  One  may  laugh  at  them  in  youth  or  tire 
of  their  sameness,  but  in  the  years  to  come  they  will  have 
a  fragrance  of  their  own. 

As  Maureen  ran  back  into  the  house  with  the  bright 
drops  of  an  April  shower  wetting  her  hair,  she  saw  her 
mother  watching  her.  "  If  you  like  to  write  your  note 
now,"  she  said,  quietly,  "  I  will  enclose  it  in  my  letter. 
Then  you  and  I  and  Irene  will  have  a  good  talk  about 
things.  You  want  a  new  trunk,  Maureen,  and,  I  think, 
a  hat-box.  Your  father  was  saying  last  night  that  he 
wishes  you  to  be  properly  fitted  out." 

"  Oh,  mother,  there  is  surely  no  need  for  that,"  re- 
turned Maureen,  in  a  distressed  tone.  "  My  things  are 
all  tidy.  I  have  those  two  new  blouses  that  Irene  made 
me,  and  the  beautiful  hat  and  jacket  that  Aunt  Margaret 
gave  me." 

"  Yes,  but  you  will  want  two  or  three  summer  frocks. 
Don't  look  so  frightened,  Maureen.  Your  father  would 
not  like  you  to  be  shabby,  and  we  will  not  put  him  to 
much  expense ;  but  we  will  have  a  review  of  your  ward- 
robe when  Irene  has  finished  her  housekeeping." 

So  Maureen  wrote  her  note,  and  then  the  small  com- 
mittee met  in  the  morning-room  to  consider  ways  and 
means  and  the  deficiencies  in  Maureen's  wardrobe.  And 
on  that  afternoon  and  the  next  there  were  shopping  ex- 
peditions, and  the  young  dressmaker  who  worked  for 
the  girls  took  up  her  abode  at  the  Homestead.  All  the 
girls  assisted,  and  Irene  took  possession  of  the  sewing- 
machine.  As  many  hands  made  light  work,  the  two 
dresses  would  be  finished  by  Thursday,  which  was  ulti- 


56  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

mately  the  day  fixed.  After  some  hesitation,  Mrs. 
Brydon  had  ordered  a  tailor-made  coat  and  skirt.  Irene 
had  one,  and  she  thought  Maureen  deserved  the  unusual 
extravagance,  and  her  husband  had  offered  no  objection. 
He  always  trusted  his  wife  implicitly  in  such  matters, 
and  she  certainly  never  disappointed  him.  She  spent 
little  on  her  own  dress;  indeed,  of  late  years  he  had 
found  it  necessary  to  supplement  her  wardrobe,  and  he 
had  formed  a  habit  of  giving  her  a  new  gown  on  her 
birthday.  Anna  used  to  remonstrate  sometimes,  but 
she  never  ventured  to  lay  it  by,  as  he  would  ask  her 
almost  daily  if  it  were  made  up;  the  only  chance  for 
peace  was  to  wear  it  as  soon  as  possible,  and  then  he 
he  would  be  satisfied.  "  I  wish  I  could  afford  to  buy 
you  a  silk  dress  every  year,"  he  observed  once,  when 
she  reproved  him  for  his  culpable  extravagance. 

"  Irene  ought  not  to  have  let  you  choose  anything  so 
delicate  and  unserviceable,"  she  observed,  as  she  looked 
lovingly  at  the  shimmering  folds  of  grey  silk.  "  It  was 
not  right,  Daniel,  especially  now  when  we  have  so  many 
expenses  with  Clive."  But  it  was  Maureen,  not  Irene, 
who  had  pleaded  for  the  grey  silk. 

"  Mother  will  love  it,"  she  said,  "  and  she  will  look 
so  beautiful  in  it " ;  and  Daniel  had  been  unable  to  resist 
the  temptation. 

"  I  wish  I  were  a  richer  man  for  your  sake,  love,"  he 
said  to  her,  as  she  thanked  him  for  her  birthday  gift. 
"  I  should  so  enjoy  giving  you  and  the  girls  pretty 
frocks." 

"  You  do  give  us  nice  things,"  she  returned,  in  her 
quiet,  affectionate,  manner,  which  was  always  softer  to 
him  than  to  any  other  person ;  even  Irene  had  not  heard 
that  peculiar  vibrant  tenderness  which  was  kept  for 
her  husband's  ear. 

"  Don't  look  so  grave  about  it,  Dan.  What  do  such 
trifles  matter?  The  girls  and  I  have  all  we  want."  And 
Anna  meant  what  she  said.  She  had  no  carnal  hankering 
after  fine  linen  and  gorgeous  attire.  Although  such 


Pot-Pourri  57 

things  were  good  in  her  eyes,  her  longings  were  not  so 
material:  the  wider  horizons,  the  fuller  life  that  she 
craved  were  far  more  spiritual  and  noble.  To  influence 
and  be  influenced  by  kindred  minds ;  to  sit  metaphorically 
at  the  feet  of  some  wise  Gamaliel  and  to  feel  strange 
stirrings  of  the  soul  as  one  listened  to  some  eloquent 
pouring-out  of  suggestion  and  thought ;  to  feel  that  there 
were  still  giants  in  the  land,  clear  dominant  intellects 
capable  of  leading  the  multitudes — such  things  would 
have  been  more  dearly  prized  by  Anna  Brydon  than  any 
amount  of  creature  comforts. 

"  Anna  has  too  big  a  mind,  she  loses  her  way  about 
it,"  Margaret  said  to  herself  once.  "  Her  nature  is 
intense;  but  Daniel,  with  all  his  adoration,  has  never 
found  it  out;  she  has  such  a  masterly  way  of  pulling 
down  the  blinds."  And  Margaret,  who  certainly  under- 
stood her  sister-in-law,  had  some  method  in  her  madness. 

One  day,  when  the  two  women  had  been  talking 
quietly  together  over  the  impossibility  of  solving  the 
many  problems  of  life,  and  the  sadness  this  caused  to 
many  sensitive  minds,  Anna  had  sighed  heavily.  "  That 
is  so  true,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  believe  that 
to  some  people  life  is  more  a  terror  than  a  blessing." 

"  My  dear  Anna !  " 

"  I  mean,"  she  returned,  flushing  slightly  at  the  im- 
plied rebuke,  for,  she  never  liked  Margaret  to  misun- 
derstand her,  "  that  to  many  thoughtful  and  morbidly 
inquiring  minds  life  is  so  many-sided,  so  hedged  round 
with  impossible  difficulties,  that  at  times  they  seem  to 
wander  in  a  melancholy  maze,  where  there  is  no  apparent 
outlet." 

Margaret  looked  at  her  a  little  wistfully.  "  Anna," 
she  said,  in  her  impulsive  way,  "  I  wonder  if  Dan  has 
ever  found  out  how  clever  you  are.  But  I  don't  believe 
that  you  ever  say  the  strange  things  to  him  that  you 
do  to  me." 

Anna  shook  her  head.  "  He  would  not  like  it.  I 
think  you  are  the  only  person  to  whom.  I  talk  in  this 


58  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

way.  Margaret,  do  you  ever  long  to  be  a  child  again? 
I  think  I  do  sometimes.  When  I  look  back  my  child- 
hood seems  to  me  a  storehouse  of  bright  memories." 

"  How  singular  that  you  should  say  that,"  returned 
Margaret,  smiling.  "  You  know  how  fond  I  am  of 
Emerson's  Essays.  I  like  to  dip  into  them  as  children 
dip  into  a  bran  pie,  and  I  always  bring  up  some  treasure 
or  other." 

"  I  thought  Henri  Frederic  Amiel  was  your  prime 
favourite." 

"  So  he  is,  he  is  always  so  pathetic  and  interesting ; 
but  his  constant  melancholy  rather  jars  on  one  some- 
times. But  you  have  interrupted  me,  Anna.  I  was 
going  to  read  to  you  a  little  paragraph  in  Emerson 
I  lighted  on,  which  rather  touches  on  this  subject. 
Please  listen  to  this :  '  If  you  gather  apples  in  the  sun- 
shine, or  make  hay,  or  hoe  corn,  and  then  retire  within 
doors  and  shut  your  eyes,  and  press  them  with  your 
hand,  you  shall  still  see  apples  hanging  in  the  bright 
light  with  boughs  and  leaves  thereto,  or  the  tumbled 
grass,  or  the  corn-flags,  and  this  for  five  or  six  hours 
afterward.  There  lie  the  impressions  on  the  retentive 
organ,  though  you  knew  it  not.  So  lies  the  whole  series 
of  natural  images  with  which  your  life  has  made  you 
acquainted  in  your  memory,  though  you  know  it  not, 
and  a  thrill  of  passion  flashes  light  on  mis  dark  chamber, 
and  the  active  power  seizes  instantly  the  fit  image  as  the 
word  of  its  momentary  thought.' " 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  as  Margaret  paused ;  she  had  a  sweet 
voice  and  read  well. 

"  No,  I  will  give  you  another  sentence  or  two.  '  It 
is  long  ere  we  discover  how  rich  we  are.  Our  history, 
we  are  sure,  is  quite  tame.  We  have  nothing  to  write, 
nothing  to  infer.  But  our  wiser  years  still  run  back  to 
the  despised  recollections  of  childhood,  where  always  we 
are  fishing  up  some  wonderful  article  out  of  that  pond, 
until  by  and  by  we  begin  to  suspect  that  the  biography 
of  one  foolish  person  we  know  is  in  reality  nothing  less 


Pot-Pourri  59 

than  the  immature  paraphrase  of  the  hundred  volumes 
of  the  universal  History." 

"  How  grand !  I  have  always  loved  Emerson.  Well, 
we  are  never  as  happy  or  as  unhappy  as  we  think,  Mar- 
garet, and  there  are  few  of  us  who  understand  rightly 
the  law  of  compensation." 

"  No,  indeed,"  was  Margaret's  reply,  and  then  a  sud- 
den smile  lit  up  her  face. 

"  Two   men   looked   out   from  prison   bars, 
The  one  saw  mud,  the  other  stars," 

she  said,  solemnly,  but  there  was  a  mutinous  spark  in 
her  eyes.  Margaret  was  an  optimist  by  nature,  in  spite 
of  her  avowed  admiration  for  that  solitary,  introspective 
thinker,  Henri  Frederic  Amiel.  But  Anna  forgave  her 
for  her  abruptness;  when  Margaret  wearied  of  a  subject 
she  generally  ended  it  in  this  fashion. 

Not  long  after  that  she  wrote  in  Anna's  favourite 
quotation  book  a  line  by  Langbridge  : 

"  All   windows  look  south  in   Sunny  Heart   Row." 

The  days  flew  by.  Never  had  a  week  passed  so 
rapidly  for  Maureen,  though  not  a  moment  had  been 
without  its  occupation. 

There  were  long  dressmaking  mornings  when  the 
entire  sisterhood  worked  with  zeal  and  ardour  under 
Miss  Milner's  guidance.  Lois  was  a  skilled  needle- 
woman, and  Sybil  always  acquitted  herself  fairly.  The 
young  people  were  accustomed  to  make  their  own  dresses 
with  Miss  Milner's  help,  and  they  all  took  very  kindly 
to  their  work.  This  was  all  the  more  strange  as  Mrs. 
Brydon  was  a  very  indifferent  sempstress  and  they  had 
certainly  not  inherited  their  love  of  needlework  from  her. 
In  the  afternoons  Maureen  paid  farewell  visits  to  her 
young  friends,  or  took  long  walks  with  her  sisters. 
Harold's  foot  was  better,  and  he  was  able  to  go  back  to 
the  office;  but  Maureen  heard  to  her  delight  that  her 


60  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

father  intended  him  to  take  her  down  to  Branksmere, 
and  that  he  would  stay  the  night  at  the  Garden  House. 

"  Your  Aunt  Margaret  has  asked  him  to  remain  until 
Monday,"  observed  Mrs.  Brydon.  "  We  are  not  quite 
sure  whether  your  father  will  consent  to  spare  him  as 
long,  but  I  told  him  last  night  that  Harold  looked 
a  little  pale,  and  that  the  change  would  do  him  good." 

"  Yes,  and  Harold  has  never  been  to  Branksmere," 
returned  Maureen,  excitedly.  "  Oh,  mother,  do  ask 
father  to  spare  him;  it  would  make  me  so  happy  to 
have  him  " ;  and  Mrs.  Brydon  promised  that  she  would 
do  all  she  could. 

Probably  her  influence  turned  the  scale,  for  two  days 
later  Harold  informed  Maureen  that  the  governor  had 
made  it  all  right,  and  that  he  would  have  three  whole 
days  at  Branksmere.  "  It  was  awfully  decent  of  Aunt 
Peg  to  invite  me,"  he  observed.  "  Of  course,  as  my 
father  says,  you  are  so  unused  to  going  about  alone  that 
you  need  some  one  to  look  after  you."  And  though 
usually  Maureen  would  have  argued  such  a  point,  she 
was  far  too  happy  to  contradict  him,  although  she  was 
sure  in  her  own  mind  that  she  could  perfectly  well  take 
care  of  herself;  for  Maureen  had  plenty  of  backbone, 
and  never  suffered  from  nerves. 

The  day  before  Maureen's  departure  Mrs.  Brydon 
had  gone  as  usual  to  her  district,  and  Maureen  and 
Irene  had  employed  themselves  in  packing  the  new  trunk, 
while  Miss  Milner  and  the  twins  put  in  finishing  stitches 
to  the  new  frocks.  The  tailor-made  tweed  lay  folded 
before  their  eyes,  and  as  Maureen  looked  at  it  with 
admiring  eyes,  she  assured  Irene  that  she  had  never  had 
so  many  nice  new  things  in  her  life. 

"  You  have  not  needed  them,"  returned  Irene,  as  she 
turned  her  attention  to  the  hat-box.  "  I  am  sure  you 
deserve  nice  things,  Maury  dear;  but  how  we  shall  miss 
you !  "  and  there  were  actually  tears  in  Irene's  sweet 
eyes.  The  impending  parting  made  her  feel  that  she 
had  not  loved  Maureen  half  enough. 


Pot-Pourri  61 

When  luncheon  was  over,  Maureen  followed  her 
mother  upstairs  without  waiting  for  an  invitation. 

"  I  feel  as  though  I  must  have  a  little  talk  with  you, 
mother,"  she  observed,  "  though  I  have  nothing  special 
to  say ;  only  to-morrow,  you  know,  I  may  be  longing  for 
the  opportunity."  Then  Mrs.  Brydon  looked  at  her 
very  kindly. 

"  I  hope  not,  Maureen ;  you  must  try  and  make  the 
journey  pleasant  to  Harold;  and  you  will  have  him  for 
three  whole  days."  Then  Maureen  cheered  up  visibly. 

"  Yes,  and  it  was  so  nice  of  father  to  spare  him.  I 
feel  as  though  I  could  never  thank  him  enough.  You 
have  all  been  so  good  to  me,  and  I  have  not  half  de- 
served it." 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  know  about  that." 

"  Oh,  but  I  know,  and  I  wish  I  had  done  better — 
much  better.  Mother,  why  is  it  that  one  never  values 
a  tiling  so  much  as  when  one  is  about  to  lose  it?  I 
always  thought  that  I  loved  home  and  all  my  belongings 
so  dearly;  but  I  see  now  that  I  never  loved  you  all  half 
enough  " — and  poor  Maureen  looked  rather  sad. 

"  My  dear  child,  I  think  you  have  always  been  very 
good,"  returned  her  mother,  softly.  "  These  feelings  are 
very  natural,  especially  at  your  age,  but  I  advise  you  not 
to  give  way  to  them. 

"  You  are  leaving  us  to  discharge  a  duty,  and  that 
thought  ought  to  give  you  courage.  Good-byes  are 
never  pleasant.  Your  father  and  I  will  certainly  realise 
that  to-morrow  when  we  send  you  away  from  us.  But, 
my  child,  we  would  neither  of  us  have  you  stay." 

"  You  mean  because  of  Aunt  Margaret  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  mean  that  and  more  than  that.  I  mean 
that  we  love  our  children  too  well  ever  to  hold  them 
back  from  doing  their  duty,  even  if  it  costs  them  present 
pain.  Do  you  think  I  am  a  Spartan  mother,  Maureen  ?  " 

"  No,  I  think  you  are  all  a  mother  ought  to  be," 
returned  the  girl,  lovingly.  Then  Anna  smoothed  the 
brown  head,  which  had  ventured  to  nestle  against  her 


62  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

shoulder,  with  a  lingering  pressure  that  spoke  volumes. 
"  No,  dear,  I  do  not  mean  to  be  hard.  I  hope  and 
trust  with  all  my  heart  that  you  and  Aunt  Margaret 
will  be  very  happy  together;  and  when  you  come  home 
— well  you  will  see  for  yourself  how  welcome  you  will 
be."  And  as  she  rose  from  the  couch  with  a  reassuring 
smile,  Maureen  kissed  her  hand  gratefully.  Her  mother 
had  never  been  so  good  to  her,  and  Maureen,  who 
had  been  on  the  brink  of  breaking  down,  felt  herself 
strengthened  and  encouraged.  "  Mother  feels  it,  but 
she  will  not  tell  me  so,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  left 
the  room. 


VII 

.      "MISTRESS  AND  MASTER" 

I  have  already  got  to  the  point  of  considering  that  there  is 
no  more  respectable  character  on  this  earth  than  an  unmarried 
woman  who  makes  her  own  way  through  life  quietly,  persever- 
ingly,  without  support  of  husband  or  brother ;  and  who,  having 
attained  the  age  of  forty-five  or  upwards,  retains  in  her  pos- 
session a  well-regulated  mind,  a  disposition  to  enjoy  simple 
pleasures,  and  fortitude  to  support  inevitable  pains,  sympathy 
with  the  sufferings  of  others,  and  willingness  to  relieve  want 
as  far  as  means  allow. — CHARLOTTE  BRONTE. 

TWENTY-FOUR  hours  later  Harold  and  Maureen  stood 
at  the  entrance  of  the  station  at  Branksmere  waiting  for 
the  luggage  to  be  put  on  the  little  omnibus  before  they 
took  their  places. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  April,  and  there  was  a  decided 
keenness  in  the  fresh  wind,  but  Harold  lifted  his  cap  and 
sniffed  the  air  appreciatively. 

"  I  think  you  told  me  that  St.  Quintin  is  quite  a 
mile  and  a  quarter  away,"  he  observed,  "  but  the  wind 
seems  blowing  straight  from  the  sea.  There  is  quite  a 
salt  taste  in  my  mouth." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Aunt  Margaret  used  to  tell  us  that 
on  windy  days  she  could  often  smell  the  sea  in  the  village. 
I  am  afraid  you  will  be  disappointed  with  St.  Quintin 
— I  remember  Irene  and  I  were;  it  is  rather  a  dreary, 
uninteresting,  little  watering-place." 

"  Oh,  I  would  put  up  with  that  if  one  could  only  see 
the  waves  rolling  up  on  the  beach,"  he  returned.  "  Jump 
in,  Maureen;  they  are  going  to  start  now.  We  are  evi- 
dently the  only  passengers." 

Maureen  was  too  busily  engaged  in  looking  out  for 
certain  landmarks  she  remembered  to  talk  much.  It 
was  five  or  six  years  since  she  and  Irene  had  spent  three 
weeks  at  Branksmere.  She  could  not  have  been  more 

m 


64  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

than  fourteen,  but  she  had  always  had  a  pleasant  recol- 
lection of  the  wide,  shady  road  leading  to  the  village, 
with  seats  under  the  trees,  and  on  either  side  sunny 
meadows  with  sheep  and  cattle  feeding. 

"  What  a  jolly  sort  of  place !  You  are  in  luck, 
Maureen,"  observed  Harold,  as  they  turned  out  of  the 
rural  boulevards. 

There  were  one  or  two  parcels  to  deliver  on  the  way. 
They  stopped  once  at  an  ivy-covered  house,  where 
Maureen  recollected  the  doctor  lived;  and  another  time 
the  omnibus  waited  at  a  house  with  a  delightful  little 
avenue  and  wide  green  lawns,  looking  like  an  enchanted 
garden  in  its  sunny  stillness.  But  when  Harold  asked 
the  name  she  shook  her  head. 

"  I  can't  remember.  I  don't  believe  we  ever  went 
to  any  of  the  houses.  We  lived  in  the  garden  unless 
"Aunt  Margaret  took  us  for  walks.  And  it  is  such  an 
age  ago,  really.  Dear  me,  I  had  forgotten  how  pretty 
the  village  was.  This  must  be  the  High  Street,  but 
we  shall  turn  off  here.  >No,  they  are  going  to  stop 
again — a  parcel  for  the  butcher's  wife,  I  suppose.  Just 
look  at  that  dear  old  house,  Harold :  it  will  be  quite 
covered  with  wistaria  presently.  Oh,  and  there  is  St. 
Cyprian;  you  can  see  the  tower  with  its  four  pinnacles 
— is  it  not  grand  ?  " 

Harold  nodded  assent.  He  had  an  artistic  eye,  and 
the  long,  wide  village  street  pleased  his  fancy.  Some 
of  the  houses  were  old,  and  the  note  of  colour  that  pre- 
dominated was  chiefly  grey  and  green,  with  here  and 
there  a  red  roof.  Like  most  villages,  a  sleepy  quiet 
seemed  to  brood  over  it  in  the  early  afternoon;  only  in 
the  distance  there  was  a  sound  of  marching  feet  on  a 
flagged  court,  that  sounded  like  children  being  drilled. 

"  Oh,  the  schools  are  down  there,  I  remember,"  con- 
tinued Maureen.  "  Irene  and  I  used  to  watch  the  chil- 
dren. How  long  are  we  going  to  stay  here,  Harold?  I 
think  the  conductor  must  have  business  of  his  own  " ; 
for  Maureen  was  anxious  to  arrive  at  the  Garden  House. 


"Mistress  and  Master"  65 

But  she  had  scarcely  spoken  before  the  omnibus  started 
again. 

They  had  turned  down  by  the  house  which  Maureen 
had  pointed  out.  The  side  view  was  decidedly 
picturesque,  with  its  arched  doorway  and  quaint  windows 
and  massive  high  grey  walls  overhung  with  creepers. 
Harold  turned  his  head  more  than  once  to  look  at  it;  it 
seemed  to  him  as  though  it  must  once  have  belonged  to- 
some  monastic  building,  though  the  dwelling-house  it- 
self seemed  of  a  later  date.  He  had  caught  a  glimpse  of 
an  old  courtyard,  which  evidently  led  to  the  garden. 

They  were  passing  another  meadow,  where  sheep 
and  lambs  were  feeding;  the  footpaths  showed  it  to 
be  a  public  thoroughfare.  Some  pretty  modern  cottages 
standing  back  in  long  gardens  were  on  the  other  side. 

A  quiet  little  street  lay  beyond;  a  few  unpretending, 
neat-looking  houses  were  on  one  side;  on  the  other  a 
little  dissenting  chapel.  Then  the  omnibus  stopped  be- 
fore an  old-fashioned  red  brick  house,  almost  covered 
with  Virginia  creeper;  but  before  any  one  could  knock 
the  door  was  opened,  and  a  tall  woman  in  brown  stood 
smiling  on  the  threshold. 

"  Good  people,  do  you  know  you  are  quite  half-an- 
hour  late,  and  I  have  got  a  stiff  neck  craning  out  of 
the  open  window  ?  "  she  said,  as  she  kissed  first  one  and 
then  the  other.  "  Take  the  luggage  by  the  side-door, 
Wiggins."  And  then,  keeping  Maureen's  hand,  she  led 
the  way  to  the  dining-room,  a  large,  cheerful  room  over- 
looking the  road,  in  which  there  was  a  bright  fire  and 
a  round  table  where  preparations  for  the  tea  were  already 
made. 

Harold  followed  them  more  slowly.  He  lingered 
for  a  moment  to  admire  the  hall  sitting-room,  with  its 
arched  doorway  at  one  end,  and  broad  low  stairs  car- 
peted with  crimson.  The  cabinet  of  china  and  com- 
fortable oak  settles  appealed  strongly  to  him. 

"  Aunt  Margaret,"  he  said,  approvingly,  "  I  think  you 
have  a  very  jolly  house."  Then  Margaret  beamed  at  him. 


66  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  I  thought  you  and  Maureen  would  be  pleased  with 
my  new  sitting-room,"  she  said,  in  a  gratified  voice. 
"  You  see,  Harold,  the  drawing-room  is  so  low  and 
dark  that  I  never  use  it  if  I  can  help  it.  It  is  cosy  enough 
on  winter  evenings,  but  the  closeness  and  want  of  light 
are  serious  defects.  If  I  were  a  rich  woman,"  she  added 
gaily,  "  which  I  am  not,  I  would  throw  out  a  bay  window, 
with  a  circular  seat  overlooking  the  garden.  Mr.  Tor- 
ranee  wanted  me  to  do  it,  but  it  would  cost  far  too 
much." 

"You  and  Harold  are  kindred  spirits  on  the  subject 
of  light  and  air,"  observed  Maureen,  in  an  amused 
voice. 

"  Yes,  we  are  both  air-maniacs  like  Roger  Chaytor — 
that  is  what  they  used  to  call  him,  poor  fellow — but  I 
hope  we  are  not  quite  so  eccentric.  But  if  I  love  fresh 
air  I  am  also  a  fire-worshipper  " ;  and  Margaret  settled 
herself  comfortably  in  the  big  easy-chair  which  had  al- 
ways been  Mrs.  Rayner's  favourite  seat. 

Margaret  Brydon  was  a  tall  woman,  and  it  had 
always  been  a  matter  of  regret  to  her  that  Daniel  was 
short.  In  every  other  way  she  considered  him  perfect ; 
but  it  was  always  a  trial  to  her  to  see  him  walking 
with  his  wife;  Anna's  fine  proportions  and  noble  car- 
riage seemed  to  eclipse  him.  But  he  never  seemed  to 
realise  this ;  his  whole-souled  devotion  to  the  mother  of 
his  children  made  any  such  comparison  impossible  to 
him.  He  had  always  admired  tall  women,  and  he  thought 
Anna  was  handsomer  than  ever  when  they  celebrated 
their  silver  wedding.  Margaret's  face  was  thin  and 
sallow,  and  she  had  few  claims  to  good  looks,  indeed 
most  people  thought  her  plain ;  but  her  eyes  were  bright 
and  expressive — they  were  clear  hazel — and  her  eyelashes 
were  unusually  long.  Her  hair,  too,  was  dark  and 
abundant,  and  she  wore  it  in  a  heavy  coil  rather  low  on 
the  neck,  but  it  somehow  suited  her.  She  was  rather  a 
graceful  person  altogether,  and  she  dressed  in  a  pic- 
turesque way.  She  liked  rich  dark  tones  of  colour — a 


"Mistress  and  Master"  67 

particular  shade  of  red,  pansy  violet,  and  warm  browns 
— but  she  disliked  black.  She  always  went  into  mourn- 
ing reluctantly  and  lightened  it  as  soon  as  possible.  She 
always  said  that  it  made  her  downright  ugly,  and  that 
it  was  more  of  a  penance  to  her  than  to  most  women. 

"  It  is  really  a  blessing  to  think  that  I  am  never 
likely  to  be  a  widow,"  she  had  once  said  quite  seriously 
to  her  sister-in-law.  "  I  simply  could  not  have  con- 
formed to  custom  and  worn  a  bonnet  and  veil  like  Mrs. 
Mayhew.  Fancy  shrouding  oneself  in  crape  for  two 
years,  with  my  brown  nutshell  of  a  face  too " — for 
Margaret  honestly  thought  herself  ugly. 

But  if  Margaret  Brydon  was  plain,  judged  by  the 
canons  of  beauty,  there  was  a  decided  charm  about  her. 
She  was  so  unconscious,  so  anxious  to  please,  so  touch- 
ingly  humble  about  her  own  merits,  and  her  frank 
vivacity  was  so  delightful.  People  were  always  at  home 
with  her  at  once.  She  could  have  made  friends  by  the 
hundred  if  she  had  cared  to  do  so;  but  a  host  of  ac- 
quaintances would  have  bored  her,  and  though  she  was 
sociable  by  nature,  she  preferred  a  smaller  circle  of  tried 
and  trusted  friends. 

"  With  acquaintances  one  has  so  much  to  explain," 
she  said  once.  "  They  know  nothing  of  one's  past  life, 
unless  one  undraws  the  curtains  and  lets  in  a  glimmer 
now  and  then,  but  the  old  friends  need  no  explanations  " ; 
and  her  hearer  could  not  deny  that  she  was  right. 

Margaret  warmed  herself  lazily  as  she  talked  to  the 
young  people,  questioning  them  about  the  journey  and 
the  home-folk.  Maureen  had  plenty  of  messages  to  give 
her.  When  the  maid  brought  in  the  brass  kettle  Mar- 
garet moved  to  the  table  and  made  tea.  She  had  provided 
all  manner  of  good  things  to  regale  youthful  appetites. 

"  Of  course  you  have  only  had  a  scrappy  luncheon 
in  the  train,"  she  remarked,  "  so  you  must  just  make  a 
hearty  tea.  We  are  not  dining  late  to-night;  we  shall 
have  supper  at  eight." 

Neither  Harold  nor  Maureen  needed  pressing.     By 


68  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

some  oversight  the  parcel  of  sandwiches  provided  by 
Irene  for  their  refreshment  had  been  left  in  the  com- 
partment when  they  changed  trains  at  Felsham,  and  in 
reality  they  were  famished.  Margaret  was  horrified 
when  she  discovered  the  fact.  She  wanted  to  have  the 
cold  meat  brought  at  once,  but  neither  of  them  would 
hear  of  it.  The  eggs  and  cold  ham  and  scones  and  cakes 
were  quite  sufficient,  as  they  assured  her;  and  as  soon 
as  her  hospitable  instincts  were  satisfied,  Margaret  set- 
tled down  comfortably  to  conversation. 

"  I  have  not  seen  you,  Harold,  since  you  made  up 
your  mind  to  be  a  solicitor." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  a  full-fledged  solicitor  yet,  Aunt  Mar- 
garet, but  of  course  I  am  working  hard." 

"  You  must  have  a  talk  with  Mr.  Torrance,"  she 
returned ;  "  he  has  a  nice  country  practice  of  his  own. 
I  expect  you  passed  his  house.  I  wonder  if  you  noticed 
it  ?  It  faces  the  High  Street,  and  has  a  wistaria  growing 
over  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  exclaimed  Maureen,  "  and  grey  walls 
festooned  with  some  creeper!  Of  course  we  noticed  it. 
It  was  so  delightfully  picturesque." 

"  Oh,  strangers  always  say  that,  but  it  has  its  draw- 
backs as  a  living  house.  It  is  called  the  Old  Grey  House. 
It  was  a  priory  once,  and  those  two  quaint  windows 
belong  to  the  kitchen.  It  is  such  a  fine  old  room  and 
was  part  of  the  old  building.  There  are  a  few  fragments 
of  the  ruins  remaining  in  the  courtyard." 

"Is  there  a  nice  garden,  Aunt  Margaret?" 

"  No ;  Mr.  Torrance  rather  neglects  it ;  it  is  chiefly 
kitchen  garden,  but  a  little  care  and  labour  would  make 
it  a  different  place.  But  he  says  as  long  as  the  paths 
are  kept  weeded,  so  that  he  can  walk  up  and  down  and 
smoke  his  pipe,  he  does  not  care  for  anything  else.  You 
are  an  animal  lover,  are  you  not,  Maureen?  By  the 
bye,"  interrupting  herself,  "  you  have  never  seen  my  new 
acquisition — a  handsome  brown  collie  that  Mr.  Torrance 
gave  me.  He  is  quite  young  and  a  splendid-looking  fel- 


"Mistress  and  Master"  69 

low,  and  we  are  so  devoted  to  each  other.  I  christened 
him  Master.  I  believe  it  is  rather  an  uncommon  name, 
but  it  came  into  my  head  and  he  seemed  to  like  it.  So 
we  are  Mistress  and  Master,  you  see,"  and  Margaret 
gave  a  low  laugh.  There  was  something  very  fresh  and 
child-like  in  her  laugh ;  it  was  never  loud,  but  it  always 
expressed  such  light-hearted  enjoyment  that  people  found 
it  'quite  infectious. 

It  had  evidently  reached  an  unseen  listener's  ear, 
for  at  this  moment  there  was  a  mighty  thump  against 
the  door,  as  though  some  heavy  body  had  been  used  as 
a  battering-ram.  Margaret  rose  hastily,  and  as  she 
opened  the  door  a  beautiful  brown  and  white  collie  rushed 
tumultuously  into  the  room,  and  circled  round  the  visi- 
tors in  an  excited  way. 

"  Master,  where  are  your  manners?"  asked  his  mis- 
tress, sternly;  and  in  a  moment  the  feathery  tail  drooped 
and  Master  sat  down  meekly  on  his  haunches,  looking 
like  a  scolded  child. 

"  Shake  hands  with  Maureen  and  Harold,  and  tell 
them  you  are  glad  to  see  them,"  continued  Margaret,  in 
a  less  severe  tone;  and  Master,  with  a  short  bark, 
wagged  his  tail  and  laid  a  heavy  paw  on  Maureen's  lap. 

"  Take  it,  Maury  dear,"  observed  Margaret ;  "  Mas- 
ter is  perfectly  gentle,  and  he  seldom  takes  a  dislike  to 
any  one."  And  then  Master  went  gravely  through  the 
same  performance  with  Harold. 

"What  a  darling!"  exclaimed  Maureen,  as  the  dog 
stood  by  his  mistress  and  looked  in  her  face  for  approval. 
Then  Margaret  kissed  his  tawny  forehead. 

"  Yes,  Mistress  is  very  pleased  with  Master,"  she 
said.  "  Please  give  him  a  scone,  Harold — a  whole  one 
— and  he  would  like  it  buttered ;  he  thinks  a  buttered 
scone  ambrosia.  If  you  will  put  the  plate  down  on  the 
hearthrug  you  will  see  what  a  gentleman  he  is.  Grace 
before  meat.  Master."  Then  the  collie  gave  vent  to  a 
short  bark  of  suppressed  eagerness  as  the  coveted  dainty 
was  placed  before  him. 


70  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Margaret  looked  at  him  lovingly.  "  He  is  a  dear 
fellow,"  she  said,  caressing  his  glossy  head,  "  and  he  has 
been  such  a  companion  to  me  all  these  months.  I 
used  to  teach  him  these  tricks  in  the  evening.  Dear, 
dear,  what  games  we  had  together!  He  knocked  me 
down  once  in  sheer  exuberance  of  spirits;  but  when  I 
pretended  to  be  unable  to  move,  he  sat  beside  me  and 
pawed  me  gently  to  find  out  if  I  were  hurt.  Oh,  you 
are  just  a  jewel  and  the  darlint  of  my  heart!  " 

"  That  is  the  sort  of  dog  I  should  like  to  have," 
observed  Harold,  "  but  father  never  liked  the  idea  of  a 
big  dog  in  the  house.  We  have  only  a  fox-terrier  puppy. 
The  Brat  is  rather  a  knowing  little  beast." 

"  Mr.  Torrance  has  a  strange  pet,"  observed  Mar- 
garet, smiling.  "  I  believe  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about 
that,  only  I  broke  off  about  Master.  He  has  a  black 
Persian  cat  who  would  follow  him  anywhere,  I  believe. 
He  calls  him  Tobias ;  why  or  wherefore  I  know  not,  but 
the  creature  answers  very  kindly  to  the  name.  He  has 
followed  him  to  this  house  more  than  once,  before  Mas- 
ter took  up  his  residence  here.  Tobias  is  a  real  beauty, 
and  every  one  admires  him.  He  has  a  handsome  collar 
and  a  bell  attached  to  it,  and  when  Mr.  Torrance  goes 
out  in  the  garden  to  smoke  his  pipe,  Tobias  follows  him 
like  a  black  shadow." 

Margaret  was  apt  to  be  a  little  discursive  and  ramb- 
ling in  her  talk;  she  liked  to  wander  off  at  her  own 
sweet  will  into  any  bye-path  that  pleased  her  fancy. 
Daniel  called  them  "  Peggy's  Divagations." 

In  all  probability  one  anecdote  after  another  of 
Tobias's  sagacity  and  Master's  canny  way  would  have 
followed  as  long  as  her  hearers  cared  to  listen;  but  just 
at  that  moment  the  grandfather's  clock  in  the  hall  re- 
called her  to  her  duties  as  hostess. 

"  I  really  think  I  ought  to  show  you  your  rooms," 
she  said ;  "  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late."  And  as  neither 
of  her  guests  made  any  objection,  she  led  the  way 
quickly  upstairs. 


"Mistress  and  Master"  71 

As  they  passed  through  the  hall  Maureen  peeped  in 
through  the  open  door  of  a  small  but  cosy  room.  A 
writing-table,  a  well-filled  bookcase,  and  two  or  three 
easy-chairs  composed  the  furniture.  A  French  window 
opened  on  a  wide  lawn  with  a  high  yew  hedge  and  some 
shady  trees. 

"  What  a  dear  little  room,  Aunt  Margaret !  I  sup- 
pose this  is  your  particular  sanctum  ?  "  And  her  aunt 
nodded. 

"  It  will  just  hold  two  people.  Your  father  once 
said  that  with  care  one  might  swing  a  kitten  without 
injury  to  life  and  limb." 

Maureen  smiled ;  then  she  said  coaxingly,  "  I  think 
I  could  squeeze  into  that  easy-chair  and  leave  room  for 
you  and  Master."  Then  Margaret  tucked  her  hand  in 
Maureen's  arm. 

"  It  shall  be  Master  and  Mistress  and  Co.,"  she  said 
with  one  of  her  delightful  laughs.  "  Poor  little  Co. ; 
does  she  half  know  how  glad  I  am  to  have  her ! " 


VIII 

AT  THE  GARDEN  HOUSE 

I  am  always  happy  (out  of  doors  be  it  understood,  for 
indoors  there  are  servants  and  furniture),  but  in  quite  different 
ways,  and  my  spring  happiness  bears  no  resemblance  to  my 
summer  or  autumn  happiness,  though  it  is  not  more  intense, 
and  there  were  days  last  winter  when  I  danced  for  sheer  joy 
out  in  my  frost-bound  garden,  in  spite  of  my  years  and  children. 
But  I  did  it  behind  a  bush,  having  a  due  regard  to  the  decencies. 
— Elizabeth  and  her  German  Garden. 

"  I  HAVE  given  you  my  old  room,  Maureen,"  observed 
Margaret,  as  she  opened  a  door — "  I  have  been  in  pos- 
session of  dear  Mrs.  Rayner's  since  Christmas — so  we 
shall  be  close  together.  I  am  afraid  the  furniture  is 
rather  old-fashioned,  but  I  have  done  my  best  to  freshen 
it  up  with  a  little  new  cretonne." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Maggie,  it  is  beautiful ! "  exclaimed 
Maureen — she  was  the  only  one  of  Margaret's  nieces 
who  generally  abbreviated  her  name — and  indeed  after 
her  small  room  at  the  Homestead  it  looked  delightfully 
comfortable  to  the  girl's  eyes. 

With  the  exception  of  Margaret's  room,  which  with 
the  dining-room  had  been  added  to  the  house  about  ten 
years  before,  all  the  bedrooms  at  the  Garden  House  were 
low,  with  small  high  windows  and  quaint  little  tiled 
fireplaces. 

The  brown  room,  as  it  was  called,  was  a  fair  size, 
and  the  two  open  lattice  windows  overlooking  the  lawn 
and  the  yew  hedge  gave  it  an  air  of  cheerfulness.  The 
furniture  was  certainly  not  modern,  but  the  brown  cre- 
tonne with  its  sprays  of  yellow  marguerites  was  quaintly 
pretty,  and  blended  with  the  Spanish  mahogany.  Mar- 
garet pointed  out  the  deep  wide  cupboard  which  was 
used  instead  of  a  wardrobe ;  then  she  lingered  a  moment 
to  offer  her  help.  But  when  Maureen  hesitated,  she  did 

72 


At  the  Garden  House  73 

not  press  it.  "  I  daresay  you  would  rather  be  quiet," 
she  said,  for  Margaret  was  never  deficient  in  tact,"  so 
I  will  just  go  down  and  write  a  note  to  your  mother, 
and  then  Harold  and  I  will  have  a  talk.  What  a  good- 
looking  boy  he  is;  he  certainly  beats  Clive  in  looks." 

"  I  am  sure  you  would  think  Clive  improved,"  re- 
plied Maureen.  "  He  is  so  happy  at  St.  John's,  and 
Oxford  seems  to  suit  him." 

"  Yes,  I  am  glad  your  father  has  managed  to  send 
him  " ;  but  Margaret  looked  a  little  thoughtful ;  she  was 
always  wondering  if  she  could  possibly  spare  a  little  of 
her  income  to  help  Daniel  with  the  boys. 

"  There  is  Ninian,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  went 
downstairs,  "  that  boy  will  never  settle  in  an  office. 
Dan  ought  to  send  him  to  Canada.  His  muscles  are 
more  developed  than  his  brains;  he  would  make  a 
splendid  navvy." 

Maureen  was  glad  to  be  left  to  herself  for  a  time. 
She  was  tired  not  physically  so  much  as  mentally.  Noth- 
ing could  have  been  kinder  than  her  Aunt  Margaret's 
welcome.  Without  saying  much,  she  seemed  to  take 
it  for  granted  that  Maureen  was  to  consider  herself  at 
home.  When  she  looked  at  her,  there  was  a  contented 
expression  in  her  eyes. 

"  She  is  a  dear,"  Maureen  thought,  as  she  trudged 
backwards  and  forwards  between  her  trunk  and  the 
big  cupboard,  which  seemed  to  swallow  up  her  few 
frocks  and  jackets  in  quite  a  surprising  way.  "  I  never 
saw  such  a  cupboard  in  my  life,"  she  said  to  herself ; 
"  I  shall  have  to  look  in  every  night  to  be  sure  some 
tramp  on  his  way  to  the  workhouse  is  not  hidden  there. 
Dear  me,  what  is  that?"  as  a  heavy  thump  against  her 
door  made  her  jump.  To  her  surprise  she  found  Master 
outside  eagerly  demanding  admission.  Without  wait- 
ing for  an  invitation,  he  marched  in,  his  feathery  tail 
waving  in  a  friendly  way;  and  having  gravely  investi- 
gated the  half-empty  trunk  and  the  row  of  garments 
hanging  50  mysteriously  in  the  cupboard,  he  lay  down 


74  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

in  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  resting  his  black  nose 
on  his  paws,  proceeded  to  take  stock  of  the  visitor.  He 
seemed  gratified  when  Maureen  addressed  him,  but  never 
moved  his  position  until  the  last  thing  was  put  away, 
and  Maureen,  feeling  hot  and  somewhat  fatigued,  sat 
down  for  a  moment  to  rest  herself ;  then  he  walked  to  her 
side  and  laid  his  head  in  her  lap  in  the  friendliest  way. 

"  What  a  dear  old  thing  you  are,  Master !  "  she  said, 
stroking  his  head.  "  You  and  I  are  going  to  be  chums, 
I  see  that.  What  a  funny  world  it  is,  old  fellow.  A  week 
— no,  nine  days  ago  I  was  reading  Aunt  Margaret's  let- 
ter and  puzzling  over  her  postscript,  '  If  Maureen — ! ' 
Well,  Maureen  is  here — actually  here  in  the  Garden 
House,  and  not  knowing  one  bit  whether  she  is  glad 
or  sorry  or  both ! "  A  pause,  during  which  Maureen 
pulled  Master's  ears  in  a  caressing  fashion,  but  her 
thoughts  were  travelling  homewards. 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  father  to-night ;  I  know  he  will 
miss  me.  I  must  write  to  him  and  mother,  too,  to- 
morrow. Perhaps  it  is  because  I  am  tired  that  I  feel 
so  dull ;  I  will  dress  myself  and  go  downstairs  " — and 
Maureen  roused  herself.  "  Don't  sit  still  when  you  are 
unhappy,"  Margaret  had  once  said  to  her  when  she 
found  her  fretting  over  some  trouble.  "  Do  something, 
for  pity's  sake ;  when  one  has  the  hump  there  is  nothing 
like  bustling  round  and  pretending  to  yourself  that  you 
are  busy."  Maureen  had  only  been  a  slip  of  a  girl  when 
Margaret  had  given  her  this  advice,  but  she  had  never 
forgotten  it. 

Margaret  meanwhile  had  written  a  brief  note  to  her 
sister-in-law,  and  was  just  addressing  the  envelope  when 
she  saw  Harold  crossing  the  lawn — he  had  discarded 
his  stick,  though  he  still  walked  more  slowly  than  usual 
— so  she  put  down  her  pen  and  hurried  after  him.  He 
was  not  on  the  tennis  lawn  as  she  expected,  so  she  passed 
under  a  rustic  arch  with  a  crimson  rambler  growing 
over  it  into  the  spacious  walled-in  kitchen  garden.  It 
was  a  pleasant  place,  with  wide  beds  filled  with 


At  the  Garden  House  75 

herbaceous  and  old-fashioned  flowers,  and  narrow  paths 
bordered  by  apple  and  pear  trees.  Here  she  came  upon 
him  pacing  up  and  down  a  broad  walk  always  called 
the  Madeira  Walk  on  account  of  its  sheltered  and  sunny 
aspect.  Even  in  early  spring  Margaret  could  bring  her 
book  or  work  and  sit  for  an  hour  or  two  protected  from 
the  keen  winds  and  enjoying  the  golden  glories  of  her 
daffodil  bed.  Margaret  always  revelled  in  her  spring 
flowers.  She  liked  to  have  masses  of  wild  blue  hyacinths 
and  clumps  of  pale  yellow  primroses  amongst  the  fruit 
trees,  and  red  and  yellow  wall-flower  growing  in  the 
wall  itself.  The  house  was  less  dear  to  Margaret  than 
her  garden,  indeed  she  had  wept  tears  of  pure  joy  and 
gratitude,  her  kingdom  of  delight.  Margaret  was  not 
selfish.  To  old  Giles's  disgust,  she  insisted  on  consider- 
ing it  a  bird  sanctuary,  and  in  the  spring  she  would  go 
tiptoeing  in  the  shrubberies  and  in  secluded  corners  to 
seek  for  nests,  and  would  stand  enraptured  at  the  sight 
of  some  bright-eyed  little  mother  sheltering  her  shiver- 
ing offspring  so  patiently  hour  after  hour.  Margaret 
had  a  grand  bird's  bath  sunk  in  one  corner  of  the  lawn 
near  the  house,  where  she  could  watch  them  from  her 
tiny  morning-room.  In  winter  she  provided  royally  for 
her  guests.  Cocoa-nuts  were  hung  up  for  the  tits ;  bas- 
kets of  millet  seed  and  crumbs  and  other  scraps  were 
suspended  in  safe  places.  "  The  little  hosts  of  thieves 
and  rascals,"  as  Giles  called  them,  bathed  and  gor- 
mandised at  their  own  sweet  will,  and  repaid  their  kind 
hostess  by  singing  from  morning  to  night  in  the  spring 
and  early  summer,  and  trying  their  best  to  rob  her  of 
her  finest  cherries  and  strawberries.  "  It  most  breaks 
a  man's  heart  to  see  the  dratted  critturs  pecking  at  the 
nectarines  through  the  netting,"  Giles  would  say ;  "  but 
then  we  all  have  a  bee  in  our  bonnets,  as  the  parson  says, 
and  missus  is  just  crazed  about  the  birds."  And  he 
went  off  grumbling;,  while  the  blackbird  watched  him 
from  the  acacia  tree,  and  then  with  a  warning  note  flew 
off  to  join  his  mate  and  cheer  her  up  with  a  song. 


76  (The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

Harold  would  have  thrown  away  his  cigarette  when 
his  aunt  joined  him,  but  Margaret  stayed  his  hand. 

"Don't  my  dear;  I  really  like  it,  and  if  it  were  not 
that  I  consider  it  unfeminine  and  weakly  self-indulgent, 
I  am  quite  sure  that  I  should  enjoy  a  cigarette  myself." 

"  Then  why  not  break  your  rule  for  once,  no  one  will 
be  the  wiser  ?  "  and  he  held  out  his  case.  But  Margaret 
closed  her  eyes,  as  though  to  shut  out  temptation. 

"  Avaunt,  Satanus,"  she  said,  piously.  "  No,  Harold, 
I  am  too  old-fashioned,  and  I  should  have  quite  a  dis- 
agreeable pain  in  my  conscience  if  I  could  ever  bring 
myself  to  do  such  a  thing.  I  must  pay  the  penalty  of 
my  femininity  and  advancing  age.  I  am  forty-seven, 
my  dear,  and  seventeen  days  over,  and  many  delights 
are  now  denied  me.  I  may  no  longer  climb  trees  and  eat 
small  hard  apples ;  and  as  it  is  quite  impossible  to  play 
rounders  by  myself,  I  have  been  compelled  to  give  up 
the  game,  though  I  still  indulge  in  battledore  and  shuttle- 
cock in  an  empty  attic.  But  as  Master  has  found  me  out, 
and  has  basely  betrayed  me  to  the  household  by  rushing 
downstairs  with  a  shuttlecock  in  his  mouth,  I  fear  even 
this  solace  will  be  denied  me.  Noblesse  oblige.  You  are 
a  very  dignified  person  yourself,  my  dear  Harold,  so  I 
am  sure  you  will  understand  me." 

"  Oh,  we  will  draw  the  line  at  cigarettes  and  green 
apples  if  you  like,"  he  returned,  "  but  battledore  and 
shuttlecock  are  all  right,  Aunt  Margaret ;  it  is  a  famous 
game  for  a  cold  day,  promotes  circulation  and  makes 
you  feel  fit.  Maureen  loves  it." 

Then  Margaret  brightened  up,  and  her  girlish  laugh 
was  good  to  hear. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  Maureen ;  how  nice  of  you  to  remind 
me!  Of  course,  a  girl  cannot  be  happy  without  games. 
It  will  be  my  duty  to  provide  her  with  amusement.  By 
the  bye — and  now  I  am  quite  serious,  Harold — I  want 
to  thank  you  and  the  whole  of  the  blessed  family,  col- 
lectively and  individually,  for  sparing  Maureen  to  me. 
You  have  all  been  so  good  and  unselfish  about  it." 


At  the  .Garden  House  77 

"  Well,  it  was  a  bit  of  a  wrench,"  he  confessed. 
"  Maureen  is  the  sort  of  person  one  does  not  quite  want 
to  spare  from  the  family  circle.  She  is  so  lively,  and 
keeps  the  ball  rolling,  and  I  expect  we  shall  miss  her  a 
good  deal." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will,"  and  Margaret  spoke  rather 
gravely.  "  She  is  Dan's  girl,  too — your  father's,  I  mean. 
I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  was  right  to  do  it.  But  if 
you  remember,  Harold,  I  only  asked  for  one  of  the 
girls?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  could  not  help  wondering  why  you  did 
not  invite  Maureen  outright,  as  we  all  knew  that  you 
wanted  her." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  fully  intended  to  do  so,  but  when 
I  began  my  letter  my  heart  failed  me.  I  did  not  want 
to  hurt  any  one's  feelings,  or  to  be  selfish  about  it ;  but 
I  own  I  was  rather  anxious  until  your  mother's  letter 
came,  and  then  I  was  so  pleased  that  Master  and  I  both 
kissed  it — indeed,  Master  wished  to  swallow  it  whole." 

"  Aunt  Margaret,  when  you  added  that  ambiguous 
postscript  at  the  last  moment,  I  suppose  you  had  a  secret 
hope  that  it  would  be  understood  ?  "  Then  Margaret's 
eyes  sparkled.  She  looked  like  a  child  detected  in  a 
piece  of  mischief,  and  too  proud  of  her  cleverness  to 
feel  very  penitent. 

"  I  thought  Maureen  would  understand,"  she  said, 
softly.  "  And  somehow  I  felt  I  was  safe  not  to  be  dis- 
appointed. I  knew  Irene  could  not  be  spared." 

"  Oh,  no,  that  was  a  foregone  conclusion ;  but  there 
were  the  Tweenies." 

"  Oh,  I  could  not  have  divided  the  love-birds,"  she 
said  hastily.  "  I  am  afraid  Lois  would  not  have  suited 
me;  she  is  too  emotional  and  has  too  little  depth;  and 
though  Sybil  is  a  nice  little  girl,  she  does  not  come  up 
to  Maureen's  mark." 

"  Certainly  not ;  you  are  right  there  Aunt  Margaret." 

"  No,  Maureen  is  the  best  of  the  bunch,  and  I  hope 
with  all  my  heart  that  I  shall  be  able  to  make  her  happy. 


78  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

You  can  all  trust  me  to  do  my  best,  can  you  not, 
Harold  ?  "  in  a  wistful  tone. 

"  Need  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  I  am  quite  sure 
that  you  and  Maureen  will  hit  it  off  famously  together. 
But  you  must  give  her  a  little  time  to  get  used  to  things. 
It  will  seem  a  bit  strange  to  her  at  first." 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  and  when  she  gets  hipped  and  home- 
sick, I  shall  just  pack  her  off  to  the  Homestead  for  a 
week  or  two.  We  are  in  a  free  country,  and  we  won't 
make  tiresome  hard-and-fast  rules.  If  Maureen  does 
not  settle  down  happily  in  due  time,  I  shall  be  disap- 
pointed, but  I  shall  accept  my  failure  like  a  wise  woman." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  will  send  her  home  and  try 
one  of  the  other  girls  ?  "  asked  Harold,  in  a  puzzled  tone. 
But  Margaret  shook  her  head  rather  emphatically. 

"  No,  no ;  that  is  not  my  idea  at  all.  It  will  be 
Maureen  or  my  own  company;  I  shall  not  trouble  any 
of  my  other  nieces."  And  then  Margaret  dismissed  the 
subject  a  little  abruptly,  asking  him  in  a  coaxing  man- 
ner, whether  he  would  not  like  to  spend  his  three  weeks' 
holiday  at  Branksmere. 

"  I  could  put  you  up  in  August,  and  you  and  Maureen 
could  have  quite  a  good  time  together,"  she  went  on. 
"  There  will  be  plenty  of  tennis  going  on.  There  is 
always  a  tennis  tournament  at  Gayton  Lodge  in  August ; 
the  Brants  are  such  hospitable  people.  And  they  play 
tennis,  too,  at  the  Rectory." 

"  You  are  really  very  kind,  Aunt  Margaret,"  returned 
Harold,  and  it  was  evident  from  his  manner  that  he  was 
extremely  pleased  with  the  invitation.  And  then  it  was 
settled  that  he  should  write  later  on  and  fix  his  date. 

They  had  walked  more  than  once  round  the  garden 
by  this  time,  and  as  the  air  was  decidedly  chilly,  Mar- 
garet proposed  returning  to  the  house.  "  I  am  quite 
sure  that  Maureen  will  have  finished  her  unpacking  by 
this  time,"  she  observed.  And  she  was  right.  The  girl 
was  sitting  by  the  fire  with  Master  still  mounting  guard 
over  her,  and  as  Margaret  sat  down  on  the  rug  beside 


At  the  Garden  House  79 

them,  Maureen  told  her  of  Master's  polite  attentions  to 
the  guest. 

"  That  is  his  usual  habit,"  returned  Margaret ;  "  he 
never  will  be  satisfied  until  he  has  taken  complete  stock 
of  a  visitor  and  is  perfectly  sure  of  his  or  her  re- 
spectability. It  is  Master's  duty  to  protect  Mistress." 
And  as  Margaret  looked  into  her  favourite's  eyes,  he 
gave  her  an  adoring  look  which  made  them  all  smile. 

The  evening  passed  far  more  happily  than  Maureen 
had  expected.  After  supper  Margaret  had  asked  Harold 
a  question  or  two  about  his  old  college,  Trinity.  "  I 
remember  the  Lime  Walk  so  well,"  she  said;  and  some- 
how these  few  words  seemed  to  start  Harold  on  reminis- 
censes  of  his  undergraduate  life,  and  one  good  story 
followed  another.  Maureen,  who  was  always  happy 
when  Harold  was,  listened  in  boundless  content,  taking 
the  good  of  the  present  hour  in  her  wholesome  way  and 
leaving  to-morrows  to  take  care  of  themselves ;  while 
Margaret,  enchanted  to  find  her  usually  reserved  nephew 
such  good  company,  leant  back  in  her  easy-chair  in 
luxurious  idleness  of  mind  and  body.  Daniel  once  made 
the  remark  that  it  was  quite  extraordinary  how  a  busy 
and  active  woman  like  Peggy  could  revel  in  absolute 
idleness.  "  I  have  seen  her  sit  for  two  hours  with  her 
hands  on  her  lap  looking  perfectly  happy,"  he  said.  But 
when  this  speech  was  retailed  to  Margaret  she  merely 
remarked,  "  Some  one  nice  must  have  been  talking  to 
me  all  the  time.  Dan  forgets  that  if  I  have  to  count 
stitches  and  follow  a  pattern  I  cannot  properly  enjoy 
conversation.  Besides,  I  am  a  disciple  of  Buddha.  I 
want  to  form  the  habit  of  sitting  still  and  resting  mind 
and  body.  When  I  appear  most  idle,  I  am  in  reality 
doing  most.  I  am  strengthening  my  powers  of  observa- 
tion, setting  my  mind  in  order,  and  generally  raising 
the  tone  of  my  inner  woman," — for  Margaret  loved  to 
indulge  in  a  rambling  sort  of  philosophy.  If  she  were 
not  always  lucid,  she  laid  the  blame  on  her  defective 
education. 


80  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

When  the  grandfather's  clock  chimed  ten,  she  ruth- 
lessly checked  her  nephew's  flow  of  eloquence.  "  It  is 
time  for  Maureen  to  go  to  bed,"  she  said,  with  a  motherly 
air  which  would  have  amused  Anna. 

But  Maureen  remonstrated.  "  I  did  not  know  you 
were  such  a  martinet,  Aunt  Maggie.  I  feel  far  too  com- 
fortable to  move,  and  Harold  is  so  amusing.  I  thought 
you  went  to  bed  at  all  sorts  of  odd  times." 

"  My  dear  Maureen,"  returned  Margaret,  solemnly, 
"  I  never  let  my  own  personal  habits  affect  the  house- 
hold. I  expect  the  maids  to  be  in  their  rooms  by  ten." 

"Then  you  do  not  retire  yourself?" 

"  Not  always.  Sometimes  the  fire  and  I  keep  each 
other  company,  or  I  am  seized  with  a  sudden  desire  to 
write  some  letter  which  has  been  on  my  mind  for  months. 
Occasionally,  when  I  do  go  upstairs  in  good  time,  I 
have  a  fit  of  tidying;  but  Master  so  strongly  objects 
to  this  that  I  have  had  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you  have  that  big  dog  in  your 
room  ?  "  asked  Harold,  in  a  shocked  tone. 

"  No,  my  dear  boy ;  but  he  sleeps  outside  of  my  door, 
and  if  I  keep  him  awake  too  long  he  thumps  with  his 
tail,  until  for  the  sake  of  peace  and  quiet  I  pretend  I 
am  ready  for  bed.  Would  you  like  to  stay  up  a  little 
longer,  Harold  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks ;  this  air  makes  me  sleepy  " ;  and  then 
he  followed  them  upstairs. 

Margaret  lighted  the  candles  in  Maureen's  room ;  then 
she  put  her  hands  affectionately  on  her  niece's  shoulders. 
"  You  are  a  good  little  girl,  Maureen,"  she  said,  ten- 
derly, "  and  it  makes  me  so  happy  to  have  you  here." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,  Aunt  Maggie." 

"  I  hope  that  very  soon  you  will  be  able  to  tell  me 
that  you  are  happy  too ;  but  we  will  bide  a  wee  for  that, 
won't  we,  darling?"  But  Maureen's  only  answer  was 
to  put  her  arms  round  Margaret's  neck,  with  an  earnest 
kiss  which  was  eloquent  enough.  Certainly  at  that  mo- 
ment Maureen  felt  she  had  done  the  right  thing. 


IX 

ST.  CYPRIAN 

Aphis  that  I  am ! — 

How  leave  my  inch-allotment,  pass  at  will 
Into  my  fellow's  liberty  of  range ! 

BROWNING. 

What  good  gift  have  my  brothers,  but  it  came 
From  search  and  strife  and  loving  sacrifice. 

E.  ARNOLD. 

Ax  breakfast  the  following  morning,  after  Margaret 
had  satisfied  herself  that  her  young  guests  had  rested 
well,  she  remarked  carelessly,  addressing  Maureen: 

"  I  daresay  you  and  Harold  will  be  able  to  amuse 
yourselves  while  I  am  busy.  I  do  not  think  visitors 
care  to  be  entertained.  I  like  people  to  feel  at  home 
and  do  as  they  please."  This  was  said  so  naturally, 
and  sounded  so  like  an  impromptu,  that  neither  of  the 
young  people  guessed  that  this  speech  had  been  re- 
hearsed beforehand.  Margaret  had  said  to  herself  as 
she  was  dressing  that  morning,  "  Now  I  am  not  going 
to  be  selfish ;  I  shall  have  Maureen  to  myself  on  Monday, 
and  I  can  wait  until  then.  She  and  Harold  will  enjoy 
running  about  together,  and  I  am  not  going  to  be  number 
three.  A  well-regulated  mistress  of  a  house  is  always 
busy  in  the  morning,"  and  so  on. 

"  Oh,  we  are  not  going  to  lie  heavy  on  your  hands, 
Aunt  Margaret,"  observed  Harold.  "  I  vote  that  we 
go  to  St.  Ouintin,  Maureen,  if  we  could  get  a  lift  part 
of  the  way,  for  my  ankle  is  not  over  strong  yet." 

Then  Margaret  eagerly  interposed. 

Nothing  was  easier.  They  could  sit  on  the  Boule- 
vard until  the  little  omnibus  passed  on  its  way  to  the 
station,  and  they  could  probably  induce  the  driver  to 
take  them  on  to  St.  Quintin.  "We  call  it  the  Boule- 
6  81 


82  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

vard,"  she  explained,  "  because  it  sounds  so  much  nicer 
than  Station  Road,  which  always  gives  one  an  idea  of 
bricks  and  mortar,  and  really  it  is  quite  a  pleasant  place 
in  which  to  sit " ;  and  to  this  they  both  assented. 

Maureen,  who  had  written  to  her  mother  before 
breakfast,  was  quite  disposed  to  enjoy  her  outing.  It 
was  delightful  for  her  to  have  Harold  all  to  herself  for 
a  whole  morning;  and  as  they  walked  in  the  direction 
of  Station  Road  more  than  one  passer-by  looked  ap- 
provingly at  the  girl  with  the  frank  smile  and  the  white 
teeth,  who  was  talking  so  eagerly  to  her  companion. 

"  A  handsome,  well  set-up  young  fellow,"  observed 
one  of  them  to  himself.  "  They  have  got  a  Brydon 
look  about  them;  I  expect  they  are  the  nephew  and  niece 
that  Margaret  has  been  expecting  " ;  and  Mr.  Torrance 
gave  them  another  look  before  he  turned  into  Gayton 
Lodge. 

When  they  reached  St.  Quintin,  Harold  was  obliged 
to  confess  that  Maureen  was  right,  and  that  the  place 
was  not  specially  interesting.  Possibly  the  golf  links 
were  the  attraction,  and  there  was  a  good  hotel  and 
some  decent  lodging-houses ;  but  the  beach  seemed  almost 
empty,  and  the  grey  sea  rolled  up  on  the  sand  with 
a  slow,  sullen  wash.  The  morning  was  dull  and  cloudy, 
but  by  and  by  the  sun  broke  through  the  clouds,  and 
then  things  looked  more  cheerful.  Harold  chose  a 
sheltered  spot  under  a  boat,  and  wrapped  a  rug  round 
himself  and  Maureen;  then  he  lighted  a  cigarette  and 
prepared  to  enjoy  himself. 

"  I  call  this  awfully  jolly !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  quite  a 
boyish  tone.  "  If  you  were  to  put  up  a  big  stone  on 
that  post,  Chiffons,  we  could  shy  pebbles  at  it."  And 
Maureen,  who  was  always  ready  to  follow  his  lead,  col- 
lected stones  and  played  Aunt  Sally  until  her  arm  ached 
with  fatigue  and  she  was  forced  to  give  in. 

Then  Harold,  who  had  won  his  laurels,  lay  back  con- 
tentedly, with  his  arms  under  his  head  and  his  cap  tilted 
over  his  eyes,  and  told  Maureen  about  Aunt  Margaret's 


St.  Cyprian  83 

invitation  for  August.  Maureen  could  scarcely  believe 
her  ears. 

"  Three  whole  weeks — are  you  quite  sure,  Entre- 
nous  ?  "  Then  Harold  nodded ;  he  never  wasted  words. 

"  Oh,  what  a  dear  she  is !  I  never  thought  of  her 
planning  such  a  thing  so  soon.  But  that  is  the  best 
of  Aunt  Margaret;  she  does  such  nice,  unexpected 
things,  and  one  never  seems  to  come  to  the  end  of  her." 

"  I  knew  you  would  be  pleased,"  returned  Harold,  in 
a  satisfied  tone.  "  I  thought  it  was  rather  decent  of  her 
myself.  Of  course,  I  shall  bring  my  bicycle  down,  and 
we  will  have  long  spins  together."  And  then  they  began 
making  plans,  as  young  people  will ;  and  all  the  time  they 
talked,  Maureen's  bare  little  brown  hand  rested  lovingly 
near  Harold's  coat  sleeve,  now  and  then  fingering  it. 
It  was  her  closest  approach  to  a  caress ;  Harold  was  far 
too  undemonstrative  and  reserved  to  care  for  outward 
signs  of  affection.  "  He  and  Maureen  were  chums," 
one  could  take  that  for  granted  without  fuss.  Neverthe- 
less, there  was  a  kind  look  in  his  eyes  now  and  then  as 
they  talked.  Presently  Maureen  grew  a  little  absent  in 
her  manner;  she  wanted  to  ask  Harold  a  question,  and 
she  was  not  sure  that  he  would  care  to  answer  it.  Still, 
she  might  never  have  so  good  an  opportunity  again. 

"  Harold,  dear,"  she  began  a  little  timidly,  "  there 
is  something  I  want  you  to  tell  me.  Do  you  feel  more 
content  about  things?  I  know  how  hard  you  are  work- 
ing, and  how  satisfied  father  is;  but  I  do  hope  that  you 
do  not  dislike  it  quite  so  much." 

This  was  evidently  unexpected,  and  Harold  felt  he 
must  sit  up  a  bit.  A  three-cornered  stone  had  long 
tempted  him ;  it  was  supported  on  two  others.  If  he 
could  only  dislodge  it  from  the  others  he  felt  his  morn- 
ing would  not  have  been  wasted ;  so  he  chose  his  pebble, 
and  Maureen  held  her  breath  and  waited.  The  next 
moment  the  three-cornered  stone  rolled  over. 

"  That  was  a  splendid  shot,  Entre-nous " ;  and  he 
nodded  and  lay  down  again. 


84  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Somebody  told  father  the  other  day,"  he  remarked 
casually,  "  that  I  was  a  cool,  level-headed  fellow,  and 
would  make  a  good  solicitor.  The  governor  was  so 
pleased." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  daresay,"  rather  impatiently ;  "  but  I  am 
not  thinking  of  father  just  now." 

"  I  don't  call  that  filial"  returned  her  brother,  re- 
proachfully. "  Elliston  told  me  the  other  day  that  father 
has  looked  years  younger  since  I  came  to  the  office.  You 
know  what  a  funny  chap  Elliston  is.  '  Your  father's  as 
fit  and  perky  as  possible,  Mr.  Harold,'  he  remarked, 
rubbing  his  hands." 

This  was  interesting  as  far  as  it  went,  but  Maureen 
was  not  satisfied. 

"  Oh,  that  is  all  very  well,"  she  said  in  quite  a  hurt 
voice,  "  but  I  see  you  don't  intend  to  answer  my  ques- 
tion." Then  Harold  rolled  over  and  caught  her  wrist. 

"  Come,  come,  don't  put  on  side,  Chiffons.  I  have 
been  answering  it  for  the  last  five  minutes.  What  makes 
you  so  dense?  Don't  you  see,  if  the  governor  is  happy, 
that  is  all  we  need  consider?  When  I  undertook  the 
job,  I  was  not  gratifying  my  own  particular  taste." 

"  No,  of  course  not,  dear.  But,"  with  a  sigh  of 
intense  sympathy,  "  it  does  seem  so  hard  the  Clive  should 
have  the  wish  of  his  heart,  and  that  yours " 

"  We  won't  go  into  that,  please,"  he  returned,  firmly. 
"  Clive  is  going  to  be  the  man  of  the  family,  and  I  won't 
begrudge  the  old  chap  his  good  luck.  Look  here,  when 
I  was  a  kid  in  white  frocks  with  a  blue  sash,  I  used 
to  cry  for  the  moon — mother  told  me  so  once.  We  all 
do  it  in  the  early  stage  of  life,"  continued  the  young 
philosopher,  "  and  some  of  us  do  not  outgrow  the  habit 
until  we  are  quite  venerable;  but  it  does  not  help  us  to 
get  our  daily  bread." 

Maureen  was  silent.  Harold  still  held  her  wrist  in 
an  iron  grasp,  though  he  seemed  hardly  aware  of  the 
fact. 

"  The  other  night  I  had  such  a  queer  dream,"  he 


St.  Cyprian  85 

went  on.  "  I  thought  I  was  defending  a  young  soldier 
who  was  accused  of  murdering  his  sweetheart.  I  knew 
the  man  was  innocent,  and  I  vowed  to  myself  that  I 
would  get  him  off." 

"  Oh,  Harold,  what  a  curious  dream !  " 

"  Yes,  and  it  was  so  strongly  vivid.  I  remember 
passing  down  a  little  lobby;  there  was  a  mirror  at  the 
end,  and  I  saw  myself  reflected  quite  plainly  in  my  wig 
and  gown.  '  That  is  Brydon,  who  is  to  conduct  the 
defence.'  I  actually  heard  those  words  behind  me.  '  He 
is  a  sharp  fellow,  and  full  of  resources;  I  expect  he 
will  get  the  poor  beggar  off/  and  then  I  woke." 

"  What  a  singular  dream !  "  And  then  Maureen  gave 
another  sigh,  as  she  thought  how  well  Harold's  clearly- 
cut  face  would  look  under  a  barrister's  wig. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  bit  queer."  But  Harold  did  not  tell 
his  sister  how  he  had  tossed  restlessly  hour  after  hour 
that  night,  unable  to  quiet  his  mind  or  to  banish  the 
vain  longings  for  the  career  that  he  would  have  chosen. 
"  It  is  paying  too  dearly  for  a  dream,"  he  said  to  himself 
more  than  once. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  rousing  himself  a  minute  later,  "  it 
is  nearly  one  o'clock,  and  we  must  make  tracks." 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  walk  back  all  that  way  ?  " 
asked  Maureen,  dubiously. 

"  I  shall  have  a  good  try,"  was  the  confident  response. 
But  in  the  end  they  chartered  an  empty  fly  that  was 
returning  to  Branksmere ;  and  Margaret  praised  them 
for  their  punctuality. 

After  luncheon  Harold  proposed  that  he  and  Maureen 
should  inspect  the  church  and  village.  "  It  is  a  fine 
afternoon,  and  I  want  to  make  the  most  of  my  time,  and 
I  have  hardly  walked  at  all.  You  had  better  come  with 
us,  Aunt  Margaret."  But  she  rather  regretfully  pleaded 
an  engagement.  An  old  woman  in  the  workhouse  in 
whom  she  was  much  interested  had  sent  a  message  to  her 
just  before  luncheon.  It  was  brief  and  to  the  point. 
"  Tell  my  dear  lady  that  I  have  worsened  a  good  bit  since 


86  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

she  was  here,  and  would  like  to  see  her."  "  The  doctor 
thinks  Mrs.  Blair  won't  last  more  than  a  day  or  two 
more,"  added  the  messenger. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  go  to  the  poor  old  body,"  con- 
tinued Margaret ;  "  but  I  will  join  you  at  Evensong,  if 
you  and  Maureen  care  to  stay  for  that.  It  is  at  four, 
and  we  shall  have  tea  afterwards."  And  the  young  peo- 
ple willingly  agreed  to  this;  but  a  moment  afterwards 
Margaret  proposed  an  amendment. 

"  I  really  should  like  to  show  you  the  church,"  she 
observed,  rather  wistfully ;  "  St.  Cyprian  is  such  a  grand 
old  building,  and  we  are  all  so  proud  of  it.  If  we  start 
now,  I  could  spare  twenty  minutes  before  I  go  to  the 
workhouse."  Then  Maureen  flew  upstairs  to  put  on 
her  hat,  and  ten  minutes  later  they  were  walking  past 
the  long  meadow  and  the  Old  Grey  House. 

As  they  turned  down  Church  Row  they  saw  a  gen- 
tleman in  clerical  dress  coming  out  of  the  schools.  He 
quickened  his  steps  when  he  saw  them. 

"  That  is  the  rector,"  whispered  Margaret,  "  the 
Rev.  Bryan  Whitworth.  I  shall  be  glad  to  introduce  you 
to  him,  Harold."  And  the  next  moment  Mr.  Whitworth 
was  greeting  them  cordially. 

He  was  a  tall  thin  man,  and  looked  about  fifty.  He 
had  a  sallow  complexion  and  grey  hair  and  wore  spec- 
tacles; but  Maureen  liked  the  look  of  him.  She  told 
Harold  afterwards  that  he  had  such  kind  eyes. 

"  This  seems  a  very  fine  church,  sir,"  observed  Harold, 
looking  up  admiringly  at  the  grey  old  tower  with  its 
four  pinnacles. 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  rector ;  "  it  was  originally  a 
Norman  church,  of  which  only  the  nave  remains,  and 
it  is  pretty  certain  that  the  existing  chancel  was  built 
early  in  the  fourteenth  century. 

"  Do  you  see  the  western  tower  has  four  stages, 
which  plainly  indicates  that  it  has  been  erected  at  differ- 
ent dates.  The  round-headed  western  doorway,  with  its 
elaborate  moulding,  is  always  admired;  indeed  it  is 


St.  Cyprian  87 

claimed  to  be  the  grandest  Normanesque  tower  in  Kent." 

"  I  am  glad  we  met  you,  Mr.  Whitworth,"  observed 
Margaret,  with  her  pleasant  smile ;  "  I  could  not  have 
explained  things  properly  to  my  nephew ;  he  would  have 
soon  found  out  my  ignorance  of  architecture." 

"  You  have  too  humble  an  estimate  of  yourself,  Miss 
Brydon,"  he  returned,  courteously.  "  I  am  sorry," 
turning  to  Harold,  "  that  this  door  is  always  closed  on 
week-days,  and  that  we  cannot  enter.  There  is  another 
entrance  round  the  corner."  But  as  they  followed  the 
rector  down  some  steps,  he  paused  to  warn  them  that 
there  were  two  or  three  more  steps  leading  down  into 
the  church. 

On  entering  the  tower,  they  noticed  a  beautiful 
pointed  arch  ornamented  with  billet-moulding  opening 
on  to  the  grand  nave  with  its  six  Norman  arches  on 
either  side,  and  above  each  arch  a  small  Norman  window, 
which  were  formerly  clerestory  windows,  but  which  now 
looked  into  the  roof.  As  they  walked  up  the  nave  the 
rector  pointed  out  the  position  of  the  original  three 
chancels.  The  centre  one,  he  explained,  was  erected 
about  the  time  of  Edward  II.,  and  the  beautiful  east 
window  had  been  recently  put  up. 

"  At  one  time  there  were  three  altars,"  went  on  the 
rector.  "  You  see  they  contain  sedilia  and  the  usual 
piscina  as  well  as  hagioscopes — squints,  as  some  folk  call 
them — through  which  the  high  altar  could  be  seen." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  not  stay  any  longer,"  observed 
Margaret  at  this  point. 

Then  the  rector  took  out  his  watch.  "  That  reminds 
me  that  I  have  an  important  engagement,  and  I  must 
hurry  off  if  I  am  to  be  back  in  time  for  the  service. 
Happily  the  business  will  not  take  me  long." 

After  this  Harold  and  Maureen  were  left  alone  to 
wander  about  at  their  own  sweet  will,  to  examine  the 
tombs  and  brasses ;  and  then  they  roamed  about  the 
ancient  churchyard,  shaded  with  old  trees,  until  Harold 


88  'The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

reminded  his  sister  that  they  would  only  just  have  time 
to  walk  through  the  village. 

It  was  a  bright,  sunshiny  afternoon,  and  Branksmere 
was  looking  its  very  best.  Every  minute  they  stopped 
to  notice  something  that  excited  their  interest.  Now  it 
was  an  ivy-covered  house  or  a  grey  old  cottage  with 
red  roof;  then  the  low  quaint  shops,  with  steps  leading 
down  to  them,  and  old-fashioned  bow  windows,  attracted 
them.  Here  and  there  were  more  modern  shops.  The 
wide  street,  the  quiet  peacefulness,  the  air  of  leisure 
pervading  the  village  were  very  pleasant  to  Maureen. 
"  What  a  dear  old  village  it  is !  "  she  observed  more 
than  once  as  they  retracted  their  steps. 

For,  though  no  bell  had  sounded,  they  were  afraid 
of  being  late.  Just  as  they  were  crossing  to  the  church 
they  saw  Margaret  waving  to  them  in  the  distance  and 
went  to  meet  her,  and  they  went  into  the  church  to- 
gether. Margaret's  seat  was  very  near  the  pulpit.  The 
high  pews  with  doors  seemed  rather  oppressive  to  the 
young  people,  but  Margaret  said  she  was  used  to  them. 

"  The  rector  is  late,"  she  observed,  as  they  took  their 
places;  but  as  she  spoke  a  bell  sounded,  and  the  next 
moment  a  little  old  lady  came  quickly  up  the  aisle  and 
seated  herself  in  the  Rectory  pew.  She  was  rather  a 
nice-looking  old  lady,  but  she  reminded  Maureen  of  a 
bright-eyed  little  bird.  She  had  a  thin,  sharp  little  face, 
and  curly  white  hair,  and  she  wore  a  hat  tied  down  by 
a  grey  veil.  She  had  little  birdlike  movements  and 
quick  motions  of  the  head ;  and  Maureen  observed  after- 
wards that  she  would  not  have  been  surprised  if  she 
had  hopped  up  the  aisle.  But  this  flippant  remark  made 
Margaret  shake  her  head  at  her. 

"  You  shall  not  laugh  at  my  friends,  Maureen.  Mrs. 
Whitworth  is  a  dear  old  thing,  and  I  am  very  fond  of 
her.  But  she  is  certainly  like  a  bird,"  she  added ;  "  but 
I  have  always  heard  that  she  had  been  very  pretty  in 
her  youth.  It  is  rather  a  curious  type  of  face;  but  she 


St.  Cyprian  89 

really  looks  very  nice  at  times,  when  she  takes  the  trou- 
ble to  dress  herself  nicely." 

When  the  bell  stopped  the  rector  went  into  the  vestry, 
and  a  minute  or  two  later  the  service  commenced.  He 
had  a  beautiful  voice,  and  read  the  lessons  and  prayers 
with  a  clearness  of  enunciation  and  reverence  which 
Harold  noticed  and  appreciated. 

"  I  wish  all  clergymen  read  like  Mr.  Whitworth,"  he 
remarked,  as  they  walked  back  to  the  Garden  House. 

"  I  think  we  are  peculiarly  favoured,"  returned  Mar- 
garet. "  The  rector  preaches  remarkably  well ;  his  ser- 
mons are  excellent,  and  he  understands  his  congregation." 

"  Has  he  no  curate  ?  "  asked  her  nephew,  in  surprise. 

"  No,  but  I  believe  he  intends  to  have  one  soon;  he 
is  not  as  strong  as  he  was,  and  the  daily  services  are 
rather  a  tie.  Not  that  he  ever  shirks  his  work.  I  do 
not  believe  he  would  miss  a  service  even  if  he  had  a 
curate." 

"Is  his  wife  nice,  Aunt  Maggie?"  Then  Margaret 
looked  amused. 

"  Mr.  Whitworth  is  not  a  married  man,"  she  returned. 
"  I  believe  he  is  a  confirmed  bachelor.  The  old  lady 
you  saw  in  the  Rectory  pew  is  his  mother  and  lives  with 
him."  But  Margaret  had  no  time  to  say  more,  as  they 
had  reached  the  Garden  House. 


X 

MARSH  HALL 

There   is   but   one   happiness, 

Duty; 
There  is  but  one  consolation, 

Work; 
There   is   but   one   delight, 

The  Beautiful. 

CARMEN  SYLVA. 

Human  nature  is  rarely  uniform. — SCOTT. 

As  SOON  as  Maureen  had  taken  off  her  hat  she  hur- 
ried downstairs.  Margaret  had  told  her  that  they  were 
later  than  usual  and  must  have  tea  at  once.  On  enter- 
ing the  dining-room,  which  looked  the  picture  of  cosiness 
with  its  bright  fire  and  windows  open  to  the  evening  sun- 
shine, she  found  Harold  engaged  in  conversation  with  a 
gentleman  who  was  warming  himself  on  the  hearthrug; 
while  Margaret,  who  had  taken  off  her  hat,  lay  back  in 
her  favourite  easy-chair  and  listened  to  them  with  a 
contented  expression  on  her  face. 

She  roused  herself  at  Maureen's  entrance.  "  This 
is  my  old  friend  Mr.  Torrance,  Maureen,"  she  said 
quietly,  "  the  owner  of  the  Old  Grey  House — and 
Tobias."  But  though  Mr.  Torrance  smiled  at  this  in- 
troduction, he  was  evidently  accustomed  to  Margaret's 
speeches. 

"  I  hope  you  are  fond  of  cats,  Miss  Brydon,"  he 
said,  as  he  shook  hands.  "  I  am  very  proud  of  Tobias ; 
he  is  a  fine  fellow,  and  quite  a  character  in  his  way.  But 
for  this  gentleman,"  looking  at  the  collie  with  pre- 
tended sternness,  "  Tobias  would  have  accompanied  me 
here  this  evening;  but  Master  has  slammed  the  door  of 
the  Garden  House  in  his  face,  and  there  is  no  admittance 
for  poor  Tobias  for  the  future." 

90 


Marsh  Hall  91 

Master  wagged  his  tail  rather  feebly  at  this.  He 
felt  that  he  was  being  blamed  for  some  unknown  fault, 
and  he  looked  so  dejected  and  out  of  spirits  that  his 
mistress  consoled  him  by  telling  him  that  he  was  the 
best  of  dogs,  and  that  only  a  barbarian  could  scold 
him  for  racial  differences  and  an  hereditary  feud  that 
had  probably  lasted  from  the  days  of  Noah.  "  But  I  do 
believe,"  she  added,  seriously,  "  that  Master  has  such  a 
generous  nature  that  he  could  easily  be  induced  to  make 
friends  with  Tobias."  But  it  was  evident  that  Mr.  Tor- 
ranee  held  a  different  opinion. 

"  They  might  probably  be  trained  to  live  together  if 
they  were  under  one  roof,"  he  observed,  "  but  I  am  afraid 
the  introduction  would  end  in  disaster.  Tobias  has  a 
lordly  spirit  and  fears  no  foe ;  the  first  sight  of  the  collie 
would  transform  him  into  a  black  demon,  snarling  fury 
and  defiance."  And  Margaret  owned  that  the  picture 
was  not  a  pleasing  one. 

They  all  moved  to  the  tea-table  after  this,  and  Mr. 
Torrance  resumed  his  conversation  with  Harold.  They 
had  a  mutual  acquaintance — Evans  of  Trinity — and 
Harold  learnt  that  his  friend's  father,  a  Welsh  clergy- 
man, had  been  an  old  school  chum  of  Mr.  Torrance's. 

"  I  remember  Rupert  when  he  was  quite  a  little  chap," 
he  remarked,  "  but  I  have  not  seen  him  since  he  has 
grown  up.  When  I  was  in  Wales  the  year  before  last 
I  went  over  to  Bettws-y-Coed  to  see  his  father,  and 
spent  nearly  a  week  with  him.  Rupert  is  to  take  orders, 
I  hear;  I  believe  he  is  a  clever  fellow." 

Margaret  seemed  to  listen  with  much  interest.     She, 
was  glad  that  he  was  drawing  Harold  out ;  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Trinity  and  Trinity  men  he  could  be  eloquent 
enough.     Meanwhile  Maureen  was  taking  stock  of  Mr. 
Torrance  himself. 

He  looked  a  year  or  two  younger  than  the  rector, 
but  he  was  a  very  different  type  of  man.  He  had  a 
clever  clean-cut  face  and  dark  hair  streaked  with  grey; 
and  though  his  manner  was  easy  and  genial,  and  he  was 


92  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

evidently  quite  in  harmony  with  his  environment, 
Maureen  noticed  that  he  was  a  little  absent  at  times, 
and  that  he  had  odd,  restless  ways.  Once  he  got  up 
from  the  table  and  walked  to  the  window,  and  then  seem- 
ingly forgot  to  resume  his  seat,  until  Margaret  reminded 
him  that  his  tea  was  getting  cold.  Another  time  he 
helped  himself  to  two  or  three  lumps  of  sugar  while 
he  was  talking,  and  then  complained  pathetically  that 
his  cup  was  over-sweetened.  Margaret  took  it  from  him 
with  an  indulgent  smile. 

"  When  you  know  Mr.  Torrance  better,  Maureen," 
she  said,  in  a  tolerant  tone,  "  you  will  be  careful  not  to 
leave  the  sugar-basin  within  his  reach,  for  he  has  a  habit 
of  helping  himself  at  every  pause  in  the  conversation. 
I  have  seen  him  with  my  own  eyes  take  six  or  seven 
lumps." 

Mr.  Torrance  laughed  a  low  chuckling  laugh.  "  I  am 
an  absent-minded  beggar,"  he  said,  good-humouredly. 
"  Wasn't  it  Dr.  Johnson  who  would  sometimes  drink 
fifteen  cups  of  tea  ?  " 

"  It  is  to  be  hoped  the  cups  were  small,"  returned 
Margaret.  "  I  should  not  have  cared  to  be  in  Mrs. 
Thrale's  place — endless  tea-drinking  and  learned  talk, 
not  to  mention  snuffy  waistcoats,"  and  she  made  a  lit- 
tle grimace  as  she  rose  from  the  table. 

Maureen  hoped  that  Mr.  Torrance  would  have  stayed 
some  time  longer.  She  thought  him  decidedly  inter- 
esting; but  to  her  chagrin  he  wanted  Harold  to  walk 
back  with  him  to  the  Old  Grey  House. 

"  How  tiresome  of  him  to  take  Harold  away !  "  she 
said  a  little  petulantly  when  they  had  gone. 

"  Mr.  Torrance  wants  his  pipe  as  well  as  Harold's 
company,"  returned  Margaret,  quietly ;  "  he  is  in  one  of 
his  restless  moods  this  evening.  I  see  he  has  taken  a 
fancy  to  Harold,  and  they  will  talk  better  without  us; 
we  can  make  ourselves  cosy."  And  then  Margaret 
plunged  into  a  regular  Homestead  talk,  and  she  was  so 
delightfully  sympathetic,  so  interested  in  every  domestic 


Marsh  Hall  93 

detail,  that  Maureen  quite  forgot  how  time  was  passing, 
and  was  pleasantly  surprised  when  Harold  returned  and 
told  them  that  he  had  been  away  nearly  two  hours. 

"  We  have  had  such  a  jolly  talk,  Aunt  Margaret," 
he  said,  with  unusual  animation.  "  Mr.  Torrance  was 
awfully  good  company;  he  seems  to  know  a  lot  about 
most  things." 

Margaret  nodded. 

"  I  though  you  would  get  on  together,"  she  remarked, 
placidly. 

"  He  seems  a  bit  lonely  in  that  big  house.  I  like 
his  study,  and  his  housekeeper  seems  a  decent  body." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  Joanna  is  a  respectable  woman,"  returned 
Margaret  very  slowly  from  her  chair.  "  She  makes  him 
fairly  comfortable,  though  as  I  tell  him,  there  is  room 
for  improvement,  and  even  an  old  servant  ought  not 
to  have  her  own  way  too  much.  Maureen,  we  must 
really  go  upstairs  now;  Harold  must  tell  us  more  after 
dinner."  But  strange  to  say,  she  did  not  again  refer 
to  their  visitor  except  in  quite  an  incidental  way ;  for, 
to  Maureen's  surprise,  her  thoughts  seemed  occupied 
with  Harold  himself. 

"  I  have  always  so  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  think 
you  have  done  a  fine  thing  in  sticking  to  your  father," 
she  said  suddenly  in  her  frank,  outspoken  way.  "  If  I 
had  not  been  such  a  lazy  woman,  I  should  have  written 
to  tell  you  so.  You  have  gone  up  several  degrees  in  my 
estimation." 

Harold  flushed.  "  You  are  very  kind  to  tell  me  so, 
Aunt  Margaret." 

"  My  dear  boy,  there  is  no  kindness  about  it ;  it  is 
simply  my  duty  to  tell  my  nephew  that  I  know  how  to 
appreciate  his  self-sacrifice.  Maureen  and  I  know  all 
about  it ;  and,  Entre-nous,"  with  a  delightful  smile,  "  we 
think  you  just  a  little  bit  of  a  hero." 

"  Oh,  that  is  absurd,  begging  your  pardon." 

"  No,  my  dear,  but  I  will  spare  your  blushes ;  besides, 
I  never  gush.  I  wanted  just  for  once  to  tell  you  this. 


94  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

And,  Harold,  let  me  say  one  more  word:  in  years  to 
come  you  will  not  repent  this,  and  you  will  have  a 
lighter  heart  than  if  you  were  a  K.C.  and  wore  silk." 
And  as  he  averted  his  eyes  a  little  hastily,  she  said  softly, 
"  If  I  could  only  have  helped  you,  dear ;  but  for  the 
present  at  least  that  is  impossible." 

Harold  got  up  from  his  chair.  He  was  plainly  em- 
barrassed by  the  conversation,  and  a  change  of  posture 
was  a  relief. 

"  It  is  awfully  good  of  you  to  say  all  this,"  he  re- 
turned, "  but  a  man  must  help  himself.  Maureen  was 
talking  about  it  this  morning;  but  somehow  I  always  feel 
that  if  one  has  a  difficult  bit  of  work  to  do  it  is  no  use 
wasting  words  over  it.  It  is  not  that  I  am  ungrateful 
for  sympathy,  but " 

"  My  dear  boy,"  replied  Margaret,  kindly,  "  there  is 
no  need  for  you  to  explain.  Maureen  and  I  both  under- 
stand you  are  pulling  up  the  hill,  and  we  only  wanted 
to  push  the  wheels  a  little."  And  then  with  much 
tact  she  changed  the  subject  by  asking  Harold  if  he  had 
any  plans  for  the  next  day;  and  as  he  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  Maureen  answered  for  him. 

"  I  think  he  would  like  another  morning  at  St. 
Quintin.  Harold  can  never  keep  away  from  the  sea,  and 
I  should  enjoy  it,  too," 

"  But  we  shall  not  go  without  you,"  observed  Harold 
firmly,  who  began  to  suspect  that  Margaret  was  only 
effacing  herself  for  their  benefit,  "  so  you  need  not  trump 
up  any  engagement."  Then  Margaret  laughed  and 
blushed  a  little  guiltily. 

"  Well,  I  will  go  on  condition  that  you  amuse  your- 
selves in  the  afternoon,  for  I  really  have  an  important 
piece  of  business  " ;  and  she  was  so  evidently  in  earnest 
that  Harold  owned  himself  convinced. 

The  morning  proved  fine  and  cloudless,  and  they 
passed  it  very  pleasantly.  They  sat  under  the  old  boat 
again,  and  Margaret  was  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of 
Aunt  Sally,  and  when  the  tide  went  out  they  walked 


Marsh  Hall  95 

along  the  wet  sands  and  looked  for  shells  and  seaweed, 
and  it  was  with  difficulty  they  caught  the  omnibus. 

Luncheon  was  a  late  and  hurried  meal,  and  Margaret 
had  to  leave  her  young  guests  to  finish  at  their  leisure 
while  she  went  off  to  keep  her  appointment. 

It  was  an  ideal  May  afternoon,  and  the  fresh  breeze 
blew  softly  in  their  faces  as  the  brother  and  sister 
strolled  across  the  little  meadow  and  past  the  Rectory 
grounds,  with  its  high  walls  and  pine  trees.  The  meadow 
was  full  of  ewes  with  their  lambs,  and  Maureen  stopped 
to  admire  a  grand  old  barn ;  the  russet  brown  and  red 
of  its  roof  and  weather-stained  walls  made  it  a  most 
picturesque  object.  Then  they  passed  some  charming 
gentlemen's  cottages  with  long  gardens  gay  with  spring 
flowers ;  lilac  bushes,  mauve  and  yellow  irises,  masses  of 
the  field-flower  called  by  some  country  folk  ragged  robin, 
bluebells  and  forget-me-nots,  candytuft  and  clouds  of 
ox-eyed  daisies,  forming  a  lovely  border  to  the  narrow 
trim  lawn. 

They  passed  a  farm  and  another  meadow;  then  a 
windmill  attracted  their  attention,  and  they  climbed  up 
the  grass  mound,  which  gave  them  a  charming  view  of 
the  surrounding  country. 

"  A  little  farther  on  we  shall  come  to  the  Marsh  of 
which  Aunt  Margaret  told  us,"  observed  Harold — 
"  Branksmere  Marsh !  I  have  always  wished  to  see 
that."  And  then  they  walked  more  quickly  down  a  road 
with  some  pleasant  old  houses  and  cottages,  until  they 
reached  an  ancient-looking  inn,  The  Three  Pigeons,  where 
two  roads  branched  off.  The  lower  road  seemed  more 
inviting,  so  they  took  it. 

A  little  farther  on  they  stopped  simultaneously. 
"  How  glorious !  "  burst  from  Maureen ;  but  Harold  only 
took  off  his  cap  that  he  might  feel  the  sea-wind  blow. 

The  dyke  land  lay  beyond  them — long  green  pastures, 
with  hundreds  of  feeding  sheep,  and  here  and  there  a 
group  of  oxen.  Myriads  of  larks  were  singing  in  the 
blue  expanse.  As  they  watched  they  saw  one  drop  down 


96  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

to  its  nest  in  the  grass;  the  next  moment  another  soared 
upward,  filling  the  air  with  its  delicious  music.  The  wide 
wind-swept  spaces,  the  far  horizons,  the  keen  freshness 
of  the  breeze  gave  them  intense  enjoyment.  Harold  for- 
got his  thwarted  ambitions  and  Maureen  her  home-sick- 
ness as  the  sheer  joy  of  life  took  possession  of  them. 
"  I  shall  come  here  nearly  every  day ! "  exclaimed 
Maureen  breathlessly,  as  they  walked  on. 

Presently  they  paused  at  the  unexpected  sight  of 
a  strange-looking  castellated  house  standing  solitary  on 
the  Marsh.  It  seemed  so  far  from  any  other  habitation 
— though  later  on  they  found  a  small  isolated  farm  hid- 
den behind  a  clump  of  trees — it  looked  so  grim  and  grey 
in  its  loneliness,  so  exposed  to  the  winds  of  heaven,  that 
their  curiosity  was  strongly  roused. 

"  What  a  great  ugly  place,"  observed  Maureen. 
"  Fancy  any  one  living  here  in  the  winter ;  surely  the 
wind  would  be  enough  to  cut  one  to  pieces." 

"  I  think  the  owner  must  be  a  misanthrope  or  an 
eccentric  sort  of  person,"  returned  her  brother.  "  We 
must  question  Aunt  Margaret.  I  fancy  there  is  some 
kind  of  garden  behind  those  high  walls — there  are  some 
trees ;  but  it  is  too  far  off  to  see." 

"  I  wonder  if  we  might  cross  that  bridge  and  go  a 
little  way  up  the  drive  ?  "  suggested  Maureen ;  for  the 
wide  dyke  or  ditch  which  bordered  the  road  was 
spanned  by  a  substantial  bridge,  leading  to  a  tolerably 
kept  carriage  drive  with  open  pasture  land  on  either 
side ;  a  formidable-looking  gateway  was  discernible  in 
the  distance. 

"  I  think  we  had  -better  not  attempt  it,"  returned 
Harold.  "  The  people  who  live  here  may  be  friends  of 
Aunt  Margaret's."  And  Maureen  reluctantly  acquiesced 
in  this.  She  was  very  glad  that  he  had  not  yielded  to 
her  curiosity,  for  the  next  moment  they  heard  the  sound 
of  hoofs  behind  them,  and  before  they  could  move  away 
a  gentleman  on  a  beautiful  bay  horse  passed  them,  and 
slightly  raising  his  hat,  rode  towards  the  house. 


Marsh  Hall  97 

Maureen  drew  a  quick  little  breath  of  relief.  She 
had  not  been  found  trespassing,  but  she  fancied  there 
had  been  a  surprised  look  in  the  stranger's  eyes. 
Maureen's  cheek  burnt  with  annoyance.  Probably  he 
thought  them  intrusive  and  curious.  But  Harold  took 
it  very  coolly. 

"  What  a  fine-looking  man,"  he  observed ;  "  quite  a 
Viking  with  his  tawny  hair  and  moustache.  He  did 
not  seem  altogether  pleased  with  us ;  he  gave  me  a  very 
sharp  look  as  he  rode  past."  But  Maureen  only 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  She  was  rather  a  proud  little 
person,  and  the  rencontre  had  disturbed  her.  She  was 
sure  she  had  seen  a  flash  o-f  annoyance  in  the  gentle- 
man's eyes.  "  If  a  cat  may  look  at  a  king,"  she  said  to 
herself,  "  there  could  be  no  harm,  surely,  in  looking  at 
his  castle ! " 

When  they  reached  the  Garden  House  they  found 
Margaret  had  returned  before  them  and  was  watching 
for  their  arrival.  She  questioned  them  about  their  walk, 
and  seemed  amused  with  their  curiosity  about  the  House 
on  the  Marsh. 

"Why,  that  is  Marsh  Hall,"  she  returned,  "and  it 
certainly  is  rather  an  ugly  building,  though  it  is  com- 
fortable enough  inside.  It  was  built  by  Mr.  Chaytor's 
grandfather;  the  air-maniac  they  called  him.  By  all 
accounts  he  was  a  very  eccentric  individual." 

"  He  was  certainly  not  overlooked  by  neighbours," 
observed  Harold. 

"  It  was  even  more  isolated  then,"  replied  Margaret ; 
"  Little  Marsh  Farm  was  not  even  built — that  belongs 
to  the  Hall.  Old  Roger  Chaytor  was  a  decided  crank ; 
he  was  fonder  of  his  own  society  than  of  other  people's, 
and  he  was  too  argumentative  and  ready  to  quarrel  to 
be  a  pleasant  companion.  I  believe  in  early  life  he  was 
very  different,  but  something  went  wrong  with  him. 

"  He  was  perfectly  crazy  on  the  subject  of  fresh  air," 
she  went  on,  "  and  his  one  idea  was  to  build  a  house 
where  he  would  have  a  wide  open  space,  with  nothing 

7 


98  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

between  him  and  the  sea,  and  to  have  the  wind  blowing 
round  him.  From  the  road  you  could  hardly  notice  that 
part  of  the  roof  is  flat,  besides  the  parapets  are  too  high. 
Well,  he  had  a  little  cabin  erected  there,  and  I  have  been 
told  that  on  the  coldest  night  in  winter  the  old  man 
would  sit  in  the  little  stone  shelter  wrapped  in  his  fur 
coat  and  smoking,  with  the  wind  rushing  over  the  Marsh 
and  roaring  round  the  Hall  like  a  pack  of  hungry 
wrolves." 

"  What  an  extraordinary  person,   Aunt  Maggie ! " 

"  Well,  he  was  not  quite  normal,  though  he  was  sane 
enough  on  most  things.  He  was  a  regular  old  Viking  " 
— Maureen  started  at  this,  for  it  was  the  very  word  that 
Harold  had  used  of  his  grandson — "  with  his  snow-white 
hair  and  beard,  and  his  sunburnt,  weather-beaten  face. 
Romney  Chaytor  is  very  like  him,  they  say;  he  has  the 
same  strongly-marked  features  and  the  same  singular 
blue  eyes.  I  never  saw  eyes  so  intensely  blue,  though 
they  are  rather  too  keen  for  my  taste ;  but  he  is  a  good- 
looking  man,  and  it  is  a  thousand  pities  that  he  is  so 
lame." 

"  Lame !  "  exclaimed  Maureen.  "  Surely  you  are  not 
speaking  of  the  present  Mr.  Chaytor,  who  rode  past  us 
just  now?  " 

"On  a  beautiful  bay  horse?  Yes,  that  was  certainly 
Romney  Chaytor  and  his  favourite  Dick  Turpin.  But 
I  must  not  chatter  any  more  just  now,  as  it  is  nearly 
dinner-time.  We  will  continue  in  our  next;  you  know 
serial  stories  generally  break  off  in  a  thrilling  part,  just 
to  whet  their  reader's  curiosity."  And  Margaret  nodded 
to  Maureen  in  rather  a  provoking  way  as  she  collected 
her  walking  apparel.  Margaret's  habits  were  decidedly 
Bohemian,  and  as  Maureen  followed  her  upstairs  she 
registered  a  private  resolve  to  cure  these  feckless  habits. 
"  What  is  the  use  of  having  a  parlour-maid,  if  she  is 
not  to  wait  on  her  mistress  ?  "  thought  the  girl,  with  a 
vivid  remembrance  of  the  well-trained  servant  at  the 
Homestead. 


XI 

ROMNEY  CHAYTOR 

And  now  the  stream  has  reached  a  dark  deep  sea, 
And  Sorrow  dim  and  crowned  is  waiting  thee. 

A.  MOULE. 

Joy   is  the  lesson   set   for   some, 

For  others,  pain  best  teacher  is ; 
We  know  not  which  for  us  shall  come, 

But   both   are   Heaven's    high   ministries. 

S.    COOLIDGE. 

WHEN  dinner  was  over,  Margaret  led  the  way  to  the 
drawing-room,  where  they  found  a  bright  little  fire  burn- 
ing, and  one  of  the  windows  thrown  open  as  usual. 

"  I  thought  you  told  us  that  you  never  sat  here  in 
the  evening  except  in  the  winter,"  observed  Maureen. 
"  But  really,  Aunt  Maggie,  if  the  ceiling  were  not  quite 
so  low  and  there  was  a  little  more  light,  it  would  be  a 
very  pretty  room ;  it  has  such  nice  old-fashioned  furni- 
ture, and  those  shelves  of  china  are  charming." 

"  Oh,  it  is  cosy  enough  in  the  winter,"  returned  her 
aunt,  carelessly ;  "  but  when  I  am  alone,  I  greatly  prefer 
my  big  dining-room.  But  if  I  am  to  have  smart  London 
visitors,  I  must  get  out  of  my  hugger-mugger  ways  and 
use  my  drawing-room  in  a  proper  civilised  manner.  In 
summer  I  live  out  of  doors  or  in  the  hall ;  and  wherever 
I  am  I  generally  contrive  to  make  myself  exceedingly 
comfortable,"  settling  herself  in  an  easy-chair  as  she 
spoke. 

"  I  hope  you  keep  up  your  music,"  remarked 
Maureen,  glancing  at  the  fine  semi-grand  piano.  "  I 
know  you  used  to  play  to  Mrs.  Rayner  every  evening." 

"  Yes,  she  was  so  fond  of  listening  to  me,  dear  soul,'* 
returned  Margaret,  softly ;  "  and  I  did  not  like  the  idea 
of  moving  the  piano  from  its  old  place.  But  I  have  not 

99 


100  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

practised  so  much  as  usual  lately;  I  must  turn  over  a 
new  leaf." 

"  Suppose  you  play  something  to  us  now,"  returned 
her  niece,  coaxingly.  But  Margaret  was  not  in  the 
humour  for  music. 

"  I  am  a  very  moody  person,  as  you  will  soon  find 
out,  Maureen,"  she  observed ;  "  I  have  musical  moods 
and  reading  moods  and  working  moods." 

"  And  gardening  moods,"  suggested  the  girl,  smiling. 

"  No,  you  are  wrong  there,"  returned  Margaret,  quite 
seriously ;  "  gardening  is  my  most  important  work  in 
life.  The  garden  that  I  love  is  the  object  of  my  thoughts 
from  early  dawn  to  dewy  eve.  I  have  no  moods  with 
regard  to  it — I  simply  live  for  it." 

Harold's  face  wore  an  amused  expression.  He  found 
his  aunt  decidedly  entertaining. 

"  I  suppose  you  understand  a  lot  about  it,"  he  ob- 
served in  an  interested  voice. 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  know  nothing — absolutely  nothing. 
My  ignorance  is  simply  pitiable.  The  mistakes  I  make 
are  awful.  My  great  anxiety  is  to  hide  them  from  Giles. 
I  am  afraid  that  I  must  be  a  very  artful  person,  for  he 
certainly  thinks  I  am  a  reliable  authority  on  horticulture. 
With  all  his  grumbling  and  obstinacy,  he  has  a  great 
respect  for  my  judgment." 

"  Are  you  not  afraid  that  Giles  will  find  you  out  one 
day,  Aunt  Maggie?" 

"My  dear  girl,  I  have  not  a  doubt  on  the  subject; 
but  I  intend  to  keep  off  the  evil  day  as  long  as  possible. 
You  have  no  idea  how  far  a  little  knowledge  spread 
very  thin  will  go,  if  eked  out  with  assurance  and  a  com- 
manding air.  Then  I  take  in  all  kinds  of  gardening 
papers,  and  when  Giles  begins  to  argue  I  bring  him  one 
with  the  page  turned  down  and  point  to  it  triumphantly. 
'  Read  it  for  yourself/  I  say ;  '  it  is  down  there  in  black 
and  white,  exactly  as  I  told  you  yesterday ' ;  and  how 
is  the  poor  old  fellow  to  guess  that  I  had  only  been 
quoting  from  memory  ?  " 


Romney  Chaytor  101 

"  Aunt  Margaret,  you  are  giving  yourself  away," 
remonstrated  Harold ;  "  I  don't  believe  you  are  as  ig- 
norant as  you  make  yourself  out." 

"  Well,  I  hope  I  shall  improve  in  time,"  she  observed 
placidly.  "  I  have  certainly  made  fewer  mistakes  this 
spring.  And,  after  all,  one's  ignorance  does  not  hinder 
one's  enjoyment.  The  grass  is  just  as  green  and  the 
flowers  bloom  and  a  hundred  sweet  surprises  give  one 
little  thrills  of  pleasure.  Birds  and  flowers,  why,  they 
are  just  the  loveliest  things  in  life;  what  can  any  one 
want  more  ?  "  But  here  Margaret  stopped  and  said  with 
great  solemnity,  "  I  forgot  one  thing  that  is  wanting  to 
my  happiness."  And  then  looking  mournfully  at  the 
wall  opposite  to  her — "  If  only  I  had  that  bay  window 
and  circular  seat !  " 

"Is  it  quite  impossible?"  asked  Harold,  in  a  sym- 
pathetic tone. 

"  I  am  afraid  so  " —  Margaret  spoke  quite  sadly ;  "  it 
will  cost  too  much,  and  I  do  not  like  to  be  extravagant. 
But  I  assure  you  that  bay  window  is  never  out  of  my 
thoughts.  I  actually  dreamt  of  it  one  evening.  It  was 
such  a  delicious  dream.  I  was  sitting  there  and  the  sun 
was  shining,  and  there  was  the  yew  hedge  with  the 
Gloire  de  Dijon  roses  climbing  over  it.  I  think  some 
one  was  sitting  beside  me  on  the  circular  seat,  but  I  have 
not  a  notion  who  it  was.  But  when  I  woke  there  was  the 
blank  wall  again.  We  might  draw  a  moral  from  that, 
eh,  Harold?" 

Margaret  was  in  a  talking  mood  that  evening,  and 
presently  she  recollected  that  she  had  promised  to  tell 
them  about  Mr.  Chaytor's  lameness;  but  she  commenced 
in  her  usual  erratic  way: 

"  I  know  very  little  of  Mr.  Chaytor  personally,  for 
he  is  not  very  sociable  with  his  neighbours.  His  two  inti- 
mate friends  are  the  rector  and  Mr.  Torrance,  but  I 
believe  he  rarely,  if  ever,  enters  their  houses." 

"  Is  he  a  crank  like  his  grandfather?  " 

"Well,  I  should  hardly  call  him  that;  but  all  the 


102  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Chaytors — the  men,  I  mean — seemed  rather  eccentric, 
and  they  certainly  had  tempers.  Romney  Chaytor  is 
somewhat  peculiar;  but  then  he  is  so  heavily  handi- 
capped, and  Fate  has  not  been  specially  kind  to  him. 
Mr.  Torrance  has  told  me  all  I  know. 

"  His  father  was  a  strikingly  handsome  man,  but  he 
had  a  very  arbitrary  and  ungoverned  temper;  and  his 
mother — a  very  sweet  woman,  whom  he  adored — died 
when  Romney  Chaytor  was  about  twelve. 

"  An  old  friend  of  Mr.  Torrance's  who  was  staying  at 
Marsh  Hall  at  the  time  of  Mrs.  Chay tor's  death,  told 
him  that  it  was  impossible  to  say  whether  the  father  or 
son  felt  her  loss  most;  but  it  was  certain  that  the  boy 
fretted  himself  ill  and  was  sent  abroad  for  some  months. 
After  that  his  time  was  principally  spent  at  Winchester. 

"  About  two  years  after  his  mother's  death,  Romney 
received  a  letter  from  his  father  telling  him  that  he  had 
just  married  again,  and  that  he  was  at  present  on  his 
wedding  tour.  '  I  am  quite  sure  you  will  like  your  new 
mother,  Romney,'  he  went  on ;  '  and  as  she  is  our  su- 
perior in  rank  and  fortune,  she.  has  a  right  to  our  con- 
sideration, and  we  must  do  all  in  our  power  to  make  her 
happy.' 

"  '  What  does  he  mean  ? '  exclaimed  the  poor  lad ; 
'  one  can  only  have  one  mother ' ;  and  he  looked  piteously 
into  his  friend's  face,  a  young  master  who  had  taken 
a  great  deal  of  notice  of  him.  '  I  will  never  forgive 
father  for  this  insult  to  my  own  dear  mother/  And  no 
amount  of  reasoning  on  his  friend's  part  could  calm 
his  rage.  The  Chaytor  temper  had  descended  to  the 
third  generation." 

"  I  think  it  was  horrid  of  his  father  to  marry  again," 
remarked  Maureen,  "  and  I  do  not  wonder  one  bit  that 
the  poor  boy  was  furious.  But  how  did  Mr.  Torrance 
know  all  this,  Aunt  Margaret  ?  " 

"  He  gained  his  information  from  old  Mrs.  Corbett ; 
for,  though  her  visits  to  Marsh  Hall  ceased  after  Mrs. 
Chaytor's  death,  she  still  saw  a  great  deal  of  her  boy 


Romney  Chaytor  103 

during  his  holidays.  From  her  accounts  Romney  cer- 
tainly behaved  rather  badly  to  his  father  and  step-mother. 
He  set  his  father  at  defiance,  and  repelled  Mrs.  Chaytor's 
attempts  to  be  friendly.  The  sight  of  the  handsome 
black-browed  woman  sitting  in  his  mother's  place  drove 
the  boy  to  the  verge  of  madness,  and  his  father's  severity 
only  widened  the  breach.  The  scenes  between  the  father 
and  son  grew  so  intolerable  that  Mrs.  Chaytor  implored 
her  husband  to  send  the  boy  away  until  he  learnt  to 
behave  with  common  civility. 

"  Mr.  Chaytor  thought  this  only  reasonable,  and  for 
more  than  a  year  Romney  did  not  return  to  Marsh 
Hall.  Mrs.  Corbett,  who  wrote  to  him  from  time  to 
time,  told  him  that  he  had  a  baby  sister,  and  that  his 
stepmother  had  been  so  ill  that  at  one  time  they  had 
despaired  of  her  life.  And  though  Romney  was  too 
proud  to  own  it,  this  news  certainly  softened  him  a  lit- 
tle ;  and  though  he  never  ceased  to  dislike  his  stepmother 
— a  dislike  which  she  certainly  returned — he  was  wise 
enough  to  conduct  himself  with  outward  civility.  But 
it  was  evident  that  he  had  not  forgiven  his  father,  and 
that  there  was  little  sympathy  between  them.  The  boy's 
intense  loyalty  to  the  memory  of  his  dead  mother  seemed 
a  perpetual  reproach  to  Geoffrey  Chaytor,  and  even 
strangers  noticed  how  seldom  the  father  and  son  were 
together. 

"  Romney  seemed  very  indifferent  to  his  baby  sister, 
though  little  Ruth  would  hold  out  her  arms  and  cry  to 
go  to  him.  '  She  is  only  my  half-sister,'  he  said  once 
very  coldly  to  Mrs.  Corbett ;  '  and  she  is  too  much  like 
Mrs.  Chaytor  for  my  taste,'  he  added  contemptuously. 
Nevertheless,  one  day  when  Romney  believed  himself 
alone  with  the  child,  he  lifted  the  dark-eyed  baby  out 
of  her  perambulator  and  carried  her  to  the  stable-yard 
to  see  a  brood  of  young  chickens.  '  Pretty,  pretty,' 
laughed  the  little  one,  dimpling  with  joy.  But  her  smiles 
turned  into  sobs  when  Romney  refused  to  put  her  down 


104  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

on  her  unsteady  feet,  and  tucked  her  up  again  in  her 
perambulator." 

Margaret  paused  for  a  moment;  not  that  she  was 
tired,  oh  dear  no!  but  she  always  disliked  this  part  of 
the  story. 

"  Go  on,"  observed  Harold,  approvingly.  "  I  think 
this  instalment  of  the  serial  quite  interesting;  don't  you, 
Chiffons  ?  "  But  Maureen  was  too  much  absorbed  to 
heed  this  remark;  her  lively  imagination  was  conjur- 
ing up  visions  of  that  lonely  and  thwarted  boyhood. 

"  I  believe  he  did  love  his  baby  sister  after  all,"  she 
said  aloud. 

Margaret  nodded.  "  That  has  always  been  my  opin- 
ion too,"  she  returned.  "  Well,  I  suppose  I  may  as  well 
go  on. 

"  From  the  time  of  her  child's  birth  Mrs.  Chaytor's 
health  had  not  been  satisfactory,  and  as  Marsh  Hall 
was  in  too  exposed  a  condition  for  an  invalid,  they 
generally  wintered  abroad,  and  Romney  spent  his  Christ- 
mas holidays  with  an  uncle  in  London.  George  Chaytor 
was  a  barrister,  a  Q.C.  with  a  large  and  increasing  prac- 
tice. He  had  a  handsome  house  at  Kensington;  and 
as  there  were  boys  and  girls  of  all  ages,  from  an  infant 
in  arms  to  rough  schoolboys  a  little  younger  than  Rom- 
ney, it  certainly  appeared  a  desirable  holiday  residence 
for  the  boy.  But  Romney  did  not  care  for  his  uncle, 
and  he  had  very  little  affection  for  his  cousins.  They 
were  high-spirited,  boisterous  children  much  given  to 
practical  jokes.  The  girls  teased  and  laughed  at  him 
and  dubbed  him  Don  Quixote,  much  to  his  indignation. 
Nevertheless,  he  repeated  his  visits  for  two  more  years. 

"  One  summer,  when  Romney  was  between  sixteen 
and  seventeen,  Mr.  Chaytor,  who  was  becoming  anxious 
about  his  wife's  health,  took  an  old  rectory  for  a  month 
or  two  in  a  pretty  village  in  Surrey,  and  there  the  house- 
hold migrated,  and  Romney  joined  them  as  soon  as  the 
vacation  commenced. 

"  Mr.  Chaytor  was  making  some  important  alteration 


Romney  Chaytor  105 

at  Marsh  Hall,  and  he  went  up  every  now  and  then 
to  superintend  the  workmen,  remaining  for  two  or  three 
days  at  a  time. 

"  Things  had  been  going  on  more  smoothly  of  late, 
and  Mrs.  Chaytor  privately  told  her  husband  that  she 
thought  her  stepson  much  improved ;  and  Mrs.  Corbett, 
who  now  lived  at  the  Mill  House,  informed  Geoffrey 
Chaytor  that  he  ought  to  be  proud  of  such  a  son.  '  He 
is  as  fine-looking  a  young  fellow  as  you  would  see  in 
a  day's  march/  were  her  words;  and  a  gratified  expres- 
sion had  crossed  Geoffrey  Chaytor's  face. 

"  That  night,  as  he  slept  peacefully  in  his  wind-blown 
fortress,  he  little  guessed  that  his  only  son  was  in  awful 
peril,  and  that  his  rescue  from  death  seemed  a  miracle. 

"  I  can  only  give  the  few  particulars  which  Mr. 
Torrance  had  heard  later  from  Mrs.  Corbett.  How  the 
fire  had  broken  out  was  a  mystery,  but  the  family  and 
household  had  been  asleep  for  an  hour  or  two  before 
the  alarm  was  given. 

"  The  rectory  was  old  and  in  bad  condition,  and  it 
seemed  to  burn  like  tinder.  The  barking  of  the  yard 
dog  under  his  window  aroused  Romney,  and  as  he  opened 
his  door  a  volume  of  smoke  met  him.  He  succeeded 
in  waking  his  stepmother,  and  with  difficulty  conveyed 
her  and  the  maid  who  slept  in  her  dressing-room  to  a 
place  of  safety.  One  of  the  servants  had  the  presence 
of  mind  to  ring  the  alarm-bell,  and  the  villagers  came 
hurrying  up  to  offer  their  help. 

"  It  was  not  until  the  household  were  gathered  on 
the  lawn  that  it  was  discovered  that  baby  Ruth  and 
her  nurse  were  missing.  In  the  panic  they  had  been 
forgotten.  Unless  the  alarm-bell  had  roused  them,  they 
would  be  still  sleeping.  Mrs.  Chaytor  was  nearly  frantic 
in  her  anguish.  She  implored  the  men  to  save  them, 
but  no  one  would  volunteer  to  enter  the  burning  house. 
Ladders  were  brought,  but  they  were  too  short ;  the  delay 
in  bringing  up  longer  ones  would  be  fatal. 

"  *  If  BO  one  will  go,  I  will  have  a  try  myself ! '  ex- 


106  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

claimed  Romney;  and  though  a  stableman  caught  him 
by  the  arm  and  tried  to  hold  him  back,  so  great  was 
the  youth's  strength  that  he  flung  him  off  and  dashed 
into  the  house.  One  or  two  of  the  men  tried  to  follow 
him,  but  the  smoke  daunted  them,  and  they  could  not 
see  where  he  had  disappeared.  Others  had  gone  for 
the  ladders.  The  main  staircase  was  burning,  but  there 
was  still  a  chance  that  the  backstairs  might  be  avail- 
able. Though  Romney  never  related  his  experiences, 
and  never  could  be  induced  to  open  his  lips  on  the  sub- 
ject, it  was  evident  that  he  must  have  reached  the  nursery 
in  this  way.  The  question  was  how  the  return  journey 
could  be  accomplished,  for  by  this  time  the  hall  was 
blazing.  One  sturdy  fellow,  the  sexton,  announced  his 
intention  of  getting  the  back  door  open.  '  If  the  young 
master  manages  to  bring  them  down  to  the  passage,  he 
will  be  caught  in  a  trap  unless  we  can  open  the  door ! ' 
he  exclaimed.  The  next  moment  a  side  window  was 
broken  open,  and  Joe  Atkins  clambered  in  and  unlocked 
the  door.  He  had  scarcely  done  so  before  Romney,  with 
the  child  on  one  arm  and  dragging  the  nurse,  half-in- 
sensible, after  him,  appeared  at  the  end  of  the  passage. 
There  were  only  a  few  yards  between  them  and  safety 
when  one  of  the  burning  rafters  fell  as  they  passed  under 
it,  and  struck  Romney  to  the  ground.  How  the  nurse 
and  child  escaped  injury  could  never  be  known,  but 
before  they  could  drag  Romney  Chaytor  from  underneath 
the  burning  wood  the  mischief  had  been  done."  Here 
Margaret  shuddered.  "  I  never  would  let  Mr.  Torrance 
tell  me  about  it." 

"  Oh,  how  terrible !  "  murmured  Maureen.  "  I  should 
have  thought  nothing  could  have  saved  him." 

"  No,  my  dear ;  as  every  one  said,  it  was  a  perfect 
miracle  that  he  was  not  killed  outright.  For  weeks  he 
was  not  expected  to  live.  Even  his  doctors  and  nurses 
declared  it  was  an  impossibility.  But  he  was  young 
and  had  a  good  constitution,  and  after  a  time  the  head 
wounds  healed,  and  only  one  leg  was  seriously  affected. 


Romney  Chaytor  107 

"  What  that  poor  boy  must  have  suffered !  I  believe 
that  his  stepmother  was  very  good  to  him,  and  that 
his  own  mother  could  not  have  waited  on  him  more 
devotedly.  And  they  were  certainly  better  friends.  He 
undoubtedly  felt  her  death  when  it  occurred  three  years 
later." 

"  Was  his  father  good  to  him  too,  Aunt  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  everything  was  done  for  his  relief 
and  comfort.  But  I  am  afraid  there  was  never  any  real 
sympathy  between  them.  The  strangest  part  was  that 
for  a  year  or  two  the  poor  boy  could  hardly  bear  the 
sight  of  little  Ruth.  Probably  his  nerves  were  dis- 
organised by  his  sufferings,  mental  and  physical;  but 
they  were  obliged  to  give  way  to  him  in  this,  and  for 
two  years,  he  scarcely  saw  her." 

"  How  awfully  sad !  "  exclaimed  Maureen ;  and  Mar- 
garet nodded. 

"  It  was  not  quite  so  unnatural  as  you  may  think 
it,"  she  returned,  "  for  no  doubt  the  sight  of  the  child 
brought  back  the  memory  of  that  terrible  night,  and  in 
his  weakened  state  he  was  unable  to  control  this  feeling. 

"  After  his  father's  death,  which  took  place  when 
Romney  was  about  three-and-twenty,  he  and  his  Uncle 
George  became  joint  guardians  of  the  child,  and  then  it 
was  arranged  that  Ruth  should  live  with  her  aunt  and 
uncle  and  share  her  cousins'  studies.  It  certainly  seemed 
a  more  desirable  home  than  Marsh  Hall." 

"  But  it  seemed  rather  sad  that  Mr.  Chaytor  should 
be  left  alone  in  that  gloomy  old  house,"  observed 
Maureen. 

"  He  was  not  always  there,"  returned  Margaret, 
"  and  I  believe  he  would  have  found  the  care  of  a  young 
sister  somewhat  irksome.  He  is  a  Chaytor,  you  must 
remember  that,  and  some  of  the  family  eccentricity  has 
descended  to  him.  I  believe  he  is  much  attached  to 
his  wind-blown  castle,  but  he  is  a  great  traveller  too." 
Then  Harold  looked  up  quickly. 

"  I  thought  you  said  he  was  lame,  Aunt  Margaret  ?  " 


108  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Yes,  that  is  true ;  but  he  is  no  longer  helpless.  For 
some  years  he  was  on  crutches,  but  now  he  does  not 
always  use  a  stick.  But  until  one  gets  used  to  it,  it  is 
very  painful  to  see  him  walk.  You  know  he  was  so 
dreadfully  burnt,  and  I  fancy  the  sinews  of  the  thigh 
shrank,  for  one  leg  is  a  little  shorter  than  the  other; 
and  though  he  manages  to  walk  now,  it  is  such  a  pain- 
fully lurching  gait — all  the  more  because  he  is  such  a 
fine-looking  man.  Mr.  Torrance  tells  me  that  he  feels 
it  acutely,  and  that  his  lameness  makes  him  morose  and 
unsociable.  He  is  certainly  becoming  something  of  a 
hermit." 

"  But  he  rides,  Aunt   Margaret." 

"  Yes,  and  he  is  extremely  active.  He  has  just  got 
a  fine  motor.  Little  Marsh  Farm  belongs  to  him,  and 
he  interests  himself  a  good  deal  in  farming.  He  spends 
most  of  his  time  in  the  open  air,  and  every  now  and 
then  he  goes  abroad,  chiefly  to  Iceland  and  Norway. 
He  has  a  devoted  servant,  Francis  Gale,  who  goes  every- 
where with  him." 

"  Does  he  never  see  his  sister  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  he  does,  and  I  know  for  certain  that 
Ruth  is  very  fond  of  her  brother.  She  generally  spends 
six  weeks  or  two  months  with  him  in  the  summer,  but 
he  hardly  ever  goes  to  town.  Now  I  have  talked  myself 
hoarse,  and  Harold  will  be  quite  bored."  But  though 
they  both  eagerly  refuted  this,  Margaret  assured  them 
that  she  had  nothing  more  to  say. 


XII 

-MY  LITTLE  PREACHERS  AND  MINSTRELS" 

Don't  bewail  and  moan,  omit  the  negative  propositions.  Don't 
waste  yourself  in  rejection  nor  bark  against  the  bad,  but  chant 
the  beauty  of  the  good. — EMERSON. 

A  lantern  in  the  hand  is  worth  a  dozen  stars.  Be  a  lantern 
then  with  all  your  might. — E.  M.  BAKER. 

THE  Viking  story,  as  Maureen  always  called  it,  made 
a  deep  impression  on  her,  and  she  could  not  get  it  out 
her  mind.  This  was  partly  owing  to  Margaret's  vivid 
descriptions;  she  was  always  so  keenly  interested  in 
her  own  narrative,  she  realised  so  intensely  the  scenes 
she  pourtrayed,  that  she  forced  her  listeners  to  realise 
them  too.  It  was  natural  to  her  to  dramatise  and  em- 
bellish her  account  with  little  touches  which  heightened 
the  interest;  without  any  deviation  from  the  truth,  she 
unconsciously  cast  the  glamour  of  her  own  imagination 
over  her  recital. 

It  was  some  time  before  Maureen  could  sleep  that 
night,  her  thoughts  were  so  busy  with  all  she  had  heard. 
"  I  wonder  if  Ruth  Chaytor  is  nice,"  she  said  to  herself 
just  before  she  dozed  off. 

When  the  morning  sunshine  awoke  her,  she  suddenly 
remembered  that  it  was  Harold's  last  day,  and  that  she 
must  make  the  most  of  every  hour. 

As  they  walked  across  to  St.  Cyprian's  for  the  morn- 
ing service,  Harold  suggested  that  they  should  spend  the 
afternoon  at  St.  Ouintin.  "  There  is  not  a  cloud  in  the 
sky,"  he  said,  "  and  the  tide  will  be  going  out  and  the 
sands  will  be  uncovered."  And  Margaret  encouraged 
this  idea. 

"  Master  and  I  generally  spend  our  Sunday  after- 
noons in  the  garden,"  she  observed.  "  I  wrap  up  warmly, 

109 


110  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

and  take  two  or  three  of  my  favourite  books,  but  I  rarely 
open  one." 

"  Does  that  mean  that  you  go  to  sleep,  Aunt 
Maggie  ? "  But  Margaret  refuted  this  with  some 
indignation. 

"  No,  you  absurd  child ;  I  am  far  too  interested  to 
waste  my  time  in  napping.  I  have  my  bird  families  to 
visit.  My  tame  robin  is  bringing  up  a  family  in  the  big 
lilac  near,  and  I  have  to  leave  my  card  in  the  shape  of 
bread-crumbs  and  raw  shreds  of  meat  on  Lady  Black- 
bird and  Mrs.  Thrush  and  some  neighbours  of  theirs,  the 
Tomtits  and  Jenny  Wrens.  A  garden  is  always  more 
delightful  on  Sunday  than  on  any  other  day  of  the  week ; 
and  if,  as  St.  Paul  says,  '  Evil  communications  corrupt 
good  manners/  which  is  certainly  true,  one  as  surely 
benefits  by  good  society,  and  my  little  preachers  and  min- 
strels have  given  me  plenty  of  consolation  in  sad  times." 

They  were  at  the  church  porch  by  this  time,  and 
Margaret  had  no  time  to  say  more.  As  they  walked  up 
the  aisle,  Maureen  noticed  a  gentleman  who  was  sitting 
alone  in  one  of  the  high  pews.  He  turned  his  head 
slightly  at  the  sound  of  footsteps,  and  Maureen  recog- 
nised the  tawny  hair  and  strongly-marked  features  of 
the  owner  of  Marsh  Hall.  And  as  she  took  her  place 
she  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  relief  that,  in  spite  of 
his  eccentricity,  Mr.  Chaytor  was  not  unmindful  of  his 
religious  duties. 

During  the  service  she  often  heard  a  deep  tone  join- 
ing in  the  responses,  and  she  was  fully  aware  that  a 
very  fine  bass  voice  proceeded  from  the  Chaytor  pew. 

The  bird-like  little  old  lady,  who  they  now  knew  was 
Mrs.  Whit  worth,  occupied  her  accustomed  corner  in  the 
Rectory  pew;  but  instead  of  her  hat,  she  wore  a  hood- 
like  bonnet  with  a  grey  veil  tied  over  it. 

Maureen  and  Harold  were  much  impressed  with  the 
rector's  sermon.  Simple  as  it  was,  it  bore  the  stamp  of 
much  deep  and  earnest  study.  There  was  a  restrained 
eloquence  about  it,  as  though  the  preacher  feared  to 


My  Little  Preachers  and  Minstrels      111 

let  himself  go.     Harold  commented  on  this  afterwards. 

"  I  think  Mr.  Whitworth  gave  us  an  excellent  ser- 
mon," he  said,  as  they  left  the  church.  "  Does  he  always 
preach  extempore,  Aunt  Margaret  ?  " 

"  Yes,  always,"  she  returned.  "  But  I  know  he  pre- 
pares his  sermons  very  carefully,  and  does  not  grudge 
time  and  study.  Sometimes  he  ends  a  little  abruptly, 
as  he  did  this  morning. 

"  That  was  just  what  I  was  going  to  observe,"  replied 
her  nephew.  "  He  had  matter  enough  for  a  far  longer 
discourse,  but  he  seemed  to  put  a  sudden  check  on 
himself." 

Margaret  smiled.  "  You  are  observant,  Harold ;  but 
it  is  quite  true.  Mr.  Whitworth  will  not  allow  himself 
to  be  carried  away  by  his  subject.  He  limits  himself 
to  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,  and  I  have  known  him  at 
the  last  moment  divide  a  sermon  into  two  parts  and 
finish  it  at  Evensong.  He  has  more  than  once  told  me 
that  a  little  well  digested  is  better  than  too  much;  and 
that,  though  he  could  preach  for  an  hour  with  ease  and 
pleasure  to  himself,  the  sight  of  his  church-warden  look- 
ing at  his  watch  would  paralyse  him  at  once." 

Margaret  had  not  left  her  seat  until  some  of  the 
pews  were  empty,  but  Maureen  saw  that  Mr.  Chaytor 
still  kept  his  place.  He  looked  at  her  as  she  passed  out. 
She  felt  sure  he  recognised  her;  his  keen  blue  eyes  were 
rather  searching. 

A  handsome  motor  with  a  smart  chauffeur  was  wait- 
ing outside  the  church.  Margaret  glanced  at  it  with 
some  curiosity  as  they  passed. 

"  Mr.  Chaytor  must  have  spent  a  large  sum  on  that 
motor,"  she  observed ;  "  but  he  has  plenty  of  money, 
and  he  has  no  one  but  himself  to  please." 

"  You  forget  his  sister,  Aunt  Margaret." 

"  Indeed  I  do  not ;  I  am  very  fond  of  Ruth.  But 
she  is  not  dependent  on  her  brother.  She  will  inherit 
her  mother's  fortune." 

At  this  moment  a  crisp,   quick   voice  behind   them 


112  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

brought  Margaret  to  a  full  stop,  and  she  turned  to  greet 
Mrs.  Whitworth,  and  to  introduce  her  nephew  and  niece. 
The  old  lady's  bright  eyes  took  stock  of  them  at  once. 

"  So  you  have  come  to  keep  your  aunt  company," 
she  said  to  Maureen,  with  a  little  friendly  nod ;  "  that 
is  very  right  and  proper,  my  dear,  for,  as  I  tell  my  son, 
it  is  not  good  for  either  man  or  woman  to  live  alone. 
Are  you  coming  to  the  Rectory,  Margaret?  I  am  only 
waiting  for  Bryan,  he  will  be  here  directly."  But  Mar- 
garet excused  herself.  They  were  lunching  early,  as 
the  young  people  wished  to  spend  the  afternoon  at  St. 
Quintin ;  she  would  bring  Maureen  to  tea  another  day. 

As  they  passed  the  Old  Grey  House,  Mr.  Torrance 
came  down  the  steps — he  was  evidently  waiting  to  speak 
to  them.  He  walked  back  with  them  to  the  Garden 
House,  and  Margaret  took  him  into  the  garden  to  see 
her  herbaceous  border.  Harold  accompanied  them. 

As  Maureen  looked  out  of  her  bedroom  window  she 
saw  them  pacing  up  and  down  the  lawn  by  the  house. 
Margaret  had  evidently  announced  her  intention  of  going 
in,  and  had  then  taken  another  turn  in  her  erratic  way. 
She  glanced  up  and  kissed  her  hand  to  Maureen  as  they 
passed. 

"  How  bright  and  happy  she  seems,"  thought  the 
girl ;  "  one  would  think  she  had  not  a  care  in  the  world. 
I  wonder  why  she  looks  so  much  nicer  than  other  peo- 
ple. She  is  not  young,  and  she  is  certainly  not  pretty, 
and  she  dresses  rather  oddly  at  times,  and  yet  one  cannot 
help  admiring  her.  That  heliotrope  cashmere  is  quite 
old,"  she  went  on,  "  she  wore  it  three  years  ago  to  my 
knowledge,  and  yet  with  that  black  feather  stole  and  hat 
with  the  long  black  ostrich  feather  curling  over  the  brim 
she  looks  quite  well  dressed.  She  is  certainly  a  rather 
graceful  person.  I  feel  such  an  ordinary  little  mortal 
beside  her." 

Before  Harold  and  Maureen  started  for  the  St.  Quin- 
tin sands  they  saw  Margaret  comfortably  established  in 
her  high-backed  garden  chair,  which  looked  like  a  bee- 


My  Little  Preachers  and  Minstrels      113 

hive  cut  in  halves.  Margaret  always  called  it  her 
"  Grannie  chair."  It  was  provided  with  well-worn 
cushions  and  was  extremely  comfortable.  Margaret's 
Sunday  preparations  generally  needed  helping  hands ; 
not  only  cushions,  but  rugs,  and  shawls,  and  a  folding- 
table  and  footstool  were  necessary.  The  Madeira  Walk 
was  sheltered,  but  in  May  the  winds  were  not  always 
kind.  The  books,  too,  were  rather  weighty;  a  volume 
of  Newman's  Sermons,  preached  in  his  Anglican  days ; 
Keble's  Christian  Year,  illustrated  and  massively  bound; 
and  the  Road-Mender  and  The  Gathering  of  Brother 
Hilarius  were  all  selected  as  her  garden  companions. 
"  I  will  carry  the  birds'  basket  myself,"  she  observed. 
"  Master  always  has  the  Church  Times." 

"  Aunt  Maggie,"  burst  out  Maureen,  "  why  do  you 
saddle  yourself  with  all  these  books,  especially  as  you 
read  so  little  ?  "  Then  Margaret  looked  at  her  with  mild 
approach. 

"  It  is  my  rest  afternoon,  and  to  rest  properly  one 
must  have  nothing  on  one's  mind.  How  am  I  to  know 
at  this  moment  which  book  will  fit  in  with  my  mood? 
If  I  left  one  of  my  Select  Library  behind,  that  would 
be  the  very  one  I  should  need.  But  do  you  suppose 
I  would  go  back  to  the  house  to  fetch  it  ?  "  and  Mar- 
garet arched  her  eyebrows  meaningly. 

They  both  laughed  at  this,  but  Harold  announced  his 
intention  of  questioning  her  on  the  subject  of  her  Sun- 
day literature  on  his  return.  Margaret  only  gave  him  a 
lazy  nod.  "  I  must  visit  little  Bobs  and  his  wife  first," 
she  remarked. 

Maureen  was  rather  quiet  that  afternoon,  the  shadow 
of  to-morrow's  parting  was  over  her.  But  Harold,  who 
quite  understood  the  reason  of  her  gravity,  laid  himself 
out  to  cheer  and  amuse  her. 

They  walked  a  long  way  over  the  sands,  and  only 
reached  the  Garden  House  in  time  for  tea  before  the 
evening  service.  Margaret,  who  thought  Maureen  looked 
tired,  pressed  her  to  remain  at  home.  "  Harold  shall 

8 


114  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

stay  with  you,"  she  observed.  But  the  girl  would  not 
hear  of  this.  She  was  glad  afterwards  she  had  gone, 
for  the  bright,  hearty  service  seemed  to  rest  her. 

Neither  Mr.  Chaytor  nor  Mr.  Torrance  was  at  church, 
but  Margaret  observed  casually  during  supper  that  Mr. 
Torrance  generally  walked  over  to  Marsh  Hall  on  Sunday 
evenings. 

"  By  the  bye,"  remarked  Harold  wickedly,  as  they 
went  into  the  drawing-room — for  Margaret  had  promised 
to  play  to  them — "  did  you  read  one  of  Newman's  Ser- 
mons or  Keble's  Christian  Year  this  afternoon  ?  " 

Margaret  considered  a  moment.  "  Let  me  see.  What 
did  I  read?  Oh  yes,  I  know.  I  read  a  couple  of  pages 
of  the  Road-Mender — about  the  two  tramps — but  it  made 
me  melancholy.  So  I  visited  my  bird  families  over  again, 
and  they  seemed  rather  glad  to  see  me.  I  don't  think  I 
was  quite  in  the  mood  for  any  of  my  books,"  continued 
Margaret  frankly,  as  she  placed  herself  at  the  piano. 

Harold  had  to  take  the  early  train  the  next  morning, 
but  both  Margaret  and  Maureen  were  down  before  him. 
Maureen  could  not  trust  herself  to  say  much — a  brief 
message  to  her  father  and  mother  and  Irene  was  given 
as  she  and  Harold  stood  together  in  the  hall.  Margaret 
had  bidden  her  nephew  a  cheery  good-bye,  and  had 
thoughtfully  retreated  to  the  dining-room. 

"  I  wish  you  were  not  going,  Entre-nous,"  observed 
poor  Maureen,  in  rather  a  sad  voice;  "it  has  been  just 
lovely  having  you  here."  Then  Harold  took  her  hands 
and  looked  at  her  very  kindly. 

"  We  have  had  an  awfully  nice  time ;  I  have  enjoyed 
myself  immensely,  and  I  mean  to  look  forward  to 
August."  Then  he  paused.  "  Look  here,  Maureen,  you 
will  be  all  right  with  Aunt  Margaret,  I  am  quite  sure 
of  that."  Then  he  kissed  her  with  unusual  affection,  and 
walked  quickly  down  the  street  to  meet  the  omnibus. 

Maureen  dashed  the  tears  from  her  eyes  and  went 
in  search  of  Margaret.  She  was  standing  by  the  dining- 


My  Little  Preachers  and  Minstrels      115 

room  window,  and  was  evidently  in  a  brown  study.  She 
roused  herself  as  Maureen  entered. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  with  an  affectionate  smile,  "  so  that 
dear  boy  has  gone,  and  we  shall  miss  him  dreadfully. 
I  do  think  he  is  my  favourite  nephew,  though  it  is 
rather  rough  on  Clive  and  Ninian  to  say  so." 

Maureen's  sad  little  face  cleared  at  this.  Too  much 
sympathy  would  have  made  the  tears  flow,  but  this 
judicious  praise  of  the  beloved  one  gave  her  a  thrill  of 
pleasure.  "  I  am  so  glad  you  are  fond  of  him,  Aunt 
Margaret.  People  do  not  always  understand  him,  be- 
cause he  is  so  quiet  and  reserved,  but  there  are  such 
depths  in  his  nature." 

Margaret  nodded.  "  He  is  certainly  not  shallow. 
Now,  Maureen,  I  wonder  how  you  would  like  to  spend 
your  morning?  I  shall  be  rather  busy  for  an  hour,  but 
afterwards "  Here  Maureen  stopped  her. 

"  You  must  not  treat  me  like  a  visitor  if  this  is  going 
to  be  my  home."  She  said  this  quite  steadily,  though 
her  lip  trembled  a  little. 

Margaret  put  her  arm  round  her  and  kissed  her  fore- 
head. "  That  was  bravely  said,  dearest.  Only  to-day 
I  should  like  you  to  do  just  what  you  wish." 

"  Then,  if  you  do  not  mind,"  returned  the  girl, 
quickly.  "  I  should  like  to  put  my  bicycle  in  order  and 
cycle  down  to  St.  Quintin ;  and,  if  you  do  not  mind,  I 
would  rather  go  alone."  It  cost  Maureen  an  effort  to 
say  this,  for  she  was  very  tender  of  other  people's  feel- 
ings. But  it  was  evident  from  Margaret's  manner  that 
she  had  expected  this. 

"  Very  well,  then,  we  will  meet  at  luncheon,"  she 
returned.  "  I  am  afraid  I  must  go  to  the  workhouse 
this  afternoon;  but  you  will  probably  have  letters  to 
write." 

"  And  this  morning,  Aunt  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  shall  scold  Giles,  and  clean  out  the  fernery, 
and  if  there  is  time  I  shall  do  some  weeding."  Margaret 
spoke  with  brisk  cheerfulness. 


116  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

When  Margaret  really  intended  to  "have  a  regular 
gardening  morning,  she  always  equipped  herself  in  what 
she  called  her  pinafore  or  digger's  costume.  And  as 
soon  as  she  was  ready  she  displayed  herself  to  Maureen, 
who  was  polishing  the  handles  of  her  new  bicycle — a 
present  from  her  father  on  her  last  birthday. 

Maureen  gave  a  little  surprised  exclamation.  "  Why, 
I  hardly  knew  you,  Aunt  Maggie !  "  she  said  slowly. 

"  I  daresay  it  is  not  becoming,"  remarked  Margaret 
calmly,  "  but  it  keeps  me  clean,  and  I  do  so  hate  to  be 
messy." 

"  It  is  queer,  but  I  do  not  dislike  it,"  observed 
Maureen.  Margaret  wore  a  long  brown  overall  which 
reached  to  the  hem  of  her  dress,  with  a  broad  leather 
belt  round  her  waist  for  greater  convenience,  and  it  was 
fastened  at  the  neck  with  an  amber-coloured  knot  of 
ribbon.  A  brown  woollen  Tarn  o'Shanter  was  set  rather 
rakishly  on  her  dark  hair.  In  summer  this  headgear 
was  replaced  by  a  broad-brimmed  hat  or  a  white  sun- 
bonnet,  but  the  brown  overall  never  varied.  It  was 
undoubtedly  a  curious  costume  for  a  woman  of  her  age, 
bvit  it  was  quite  surprising  how  young  and  slim  Mar- 
garet looked  in  it.  And  the  amber  ribbon  at  her  throat 
gave  an  effective  touch  of  colour. 

"  My  pinafore  begins  to  look  mouldy,"  she  observed ; 
"  I  shall  have  to  invest  in  a  new  one.  You  would  look 
rather  nice  in  a  dark  green  linen  smock  yourself, 
Maureen.  You  have  no  idea  how  it  protects  your  clothes. 
I  must  see  about  it  when  I  get  mine."  And  then  she 
whistled  for  Master  and  went  off  blithely  with  a  rake 
over  her  shoulder. 

It  is  impossible  to  be  much  in  contact  with  'a  sun- 
shiny nature  without  being  insensibly  cheered,  and 
Maureen  felt  a  little  less  depressed  when  she  mounted 
her  iron  steed  and  rode  slowly  down  the  Boulevard. 
It  was  still  early  and  she  had  a  long  morning  before 
her,  so  there  was  no  need  to  hurry.  The  air  blew  freshly 
in  her  face.  One  or  two  nurses  and  some  children  were 


My  Little  Preachers  and  Minstrels      117 

wending  their  way  to  the  sea  front.  Presently  there  was 
the  sound  of  ringing  hoofs  behind  her,  and  the  next 
moment  Mr.  Chaytor  passed  on  his  bay  horse,  Dick 
Turpin.  They  passed  her  so  quickly  that  she  had  only 
time  to  recognise  him.  But  she  noticed  he  rode  well, 
and  seemed  to  be  enjoying  his  morning  gallop. 

"  How  impossible  to  realise  that  he  is  lame ! " 
Maureen  thought,  as  she  glanced  at  the  massive  shoul- 
ders and  fine  carriage  of  the  head.  He  seemed  so  strong 
and  vigorous  that  the  idea  of  any  physical  infirmity  was 
quite  incongruous.  He  looked  like  a  Nimrod  among 
men — a  mighty  hunter  or  explorer.  The  Vikings  of  old 
with  their  sea-blue  eyes  and  weather-beaten  faces  must 
have  resembled  Romney  Chaytor. 

Maureen  rode  on  more  quickly  after  this.  When  she 
reached  St.  Quintin  she  carried  her  bicycle  down  a  little 
piece  of  sloping  beach  and  sat  down  under  the  old  boat. 
"  Now  I  must  be  good  and  think  myself  into  a  better 
frame  of  mind,"  Maureen  said  to  herself  quite  sternly. 


XIII 

"ROSEMARY  AND  RUE" 

My  very  thoughts  are  selfish,  always  building 

Mean  castles  in  the  air. 
I  use  my  love  of  others  for  a  gilding 

To  make  myself  look  fair. 
Alas !  no  speed  in  life  can  snatch  us  wholly 

Out  of  Self's  hateful  sight. 

FABER. 

Thank  God,  bless  God,  all  ye  who  suffer  not 
More  grief  than  ye  can  weep  for ! 

E.  A.  BROWNING. 

DURING  the  following  week  or  two  Maureen  often 
recalled  Harold's  parting  words :  "  Look  here,  Maureen, 
you  will  be  all  right  with  Aunt  Margaret,  I  am  quite 
sure  of  that."  And  as  the  days  went  on  the  girl  was 
constrained  in  sheer  honesty  to  admit  that  her  brother's 
judgment  had  been  correct. 

Maureen  had  always  been  strongly  drawn  to  her 
aunt,  but  until  she  lived  with  her  she  had  never  quite 
realised  how  lovable  she  was,  and  what  a  delightful 
comrade  she  could  be. 

As  Margaret  was  never  dull  or  hipped  herself,  she 
took  good  care  that  her  young  companion  should  not 
be  dull  either;  and  while  leaving  Maureen  absolutely 
free  to  follow  her  own  pursuits,  she  often  suggested 
some  pleasant  plan  for  the  girl's  amusement,  or  some 
interesting  occupation  that  they  could  share  together. 

It  was  only  natural  that  Maureen  should  have  hours 
of  home-sickness  and  depression;  for  she  was  a  loyal, 
affectionate  little  soul,  and  there  were  times  when  she 
craved  for  a  sight  of  the  dear  home  faces  with  a  yearn- 
ing which  was  absolutely  pain. 

Her  worst  moments  were  towards  evening,  the  time 
118 


"Rosemary  and  Rue"  119 

when  her  father  and  Harold  returned  home  and  a  large, 
cheerful  party  collected  round  the  dinner-table. 

"  I  hope  father  does  not  miss  me  too  much,"  she 
would  say  to  herself,  "and  that  Harold  will  not  get 
into  unsociable  ways."  And  once,  as  she  and  Margaret 
were  sitting  together  looking  out  at  a  glorious  spring 
sunset,  she  observed  a  little  wistfully: 

"  How  strange  it  is  that  we  never  know  how  much 
we  love  people  until  we  lose  them  or  are  parted  from 
them !  I  mean,  that  we  take  their  affection  too  much  as 
a  matter  of  course." 

Margaret  gave  one  of  her  quick  little  nods  of  assent ; 
she  always  comprehended  things  at  once  in  the  most 
delightful  way. 

"  Aunt  Margaret  and  I  understand  each  other  so  per- 
fectly," Maureen  wrote  after  this  to  Harold.  "  We  speak 
the  same  language  and  like  the  same  things,  that  is  why 
we  are  such  good  comrades." 

"  If  one  had  only  been  nicer !  "  went  on  Maureen, 
with  a  little  sigh.  Then  Margaret  withdrew  her  eyes 
from  the  sunset  glory  and  looked  at  the  girl  rather 
pityingly. 

"Life  is  not  always  easy,  is  it,  dear?  I  know  what 
you  mean.  I  think  most  people  have  said  the  same 
things  at  some  moment  of  their  lives.  You  see,  we  are 
all,  even  the  best  of  us,  so  selfish  and  egotistical — we 
never  shut  the  door  on  ourselves." 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  quite  follow  you,  Aunt 
Maggie." 

"  It  is  perfectly  simple,"  she  returned.  "  You  have 
a  fit  of  the  Iieitmt'eh  this  evening,  darling — do  you  think 
I  do  not  see  that?  You  are  full  of  little  natural  regrets 
and  remorses.  But  you  are  thinking  of  yourself  as  well 
as  your  dear  ones.  Do  you  know  what  my  favourite 
Amiel,  that  most  provoking  and  morbid  of  philosophers, 
says :  '  It  is  when  one  expects  nothing  more  for  oneself 
that  one  is  able  to  love '  ?  " 

"But  surely  that  is  a  hard  saying?" 


120  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  There  is  a  roughness  of  rind  certainly,  but  you 
will  find  the  kernel  of  truth  inside.  In  my  opinion,  dear, 
we  waste  a  good  deal  of  time  in  regrets.  '  If  I  had 
only  been  nicer ! '  were  not  those  your  words  ? — kinder 
and  more  patient,  I  expect  you  really  meant — '  I  should 
not  feel  so  depressed  and  low  in  my  mind  as  I  do  at 
this  moment.'  " 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Maggie,  how  could  you  guess  that  ?  " 

"  My  dear  child,"  returned  Margaret,  solemnly, 
"  when  I  lay  in  my  cradle,  and  the  fairies  came  round  me 
with  their  gifts,  a  particularly  nice,  good-natured  fain.' 
gave  me  a  divining-rod  labelled  '  sympathy/  and  she 
prophesied  that  when  I  cared  for  any  one  I  should  be 
able  to  read  them  like  print.  Now  and  then  I  have  made 
a  mistake " — and  Margaret's  eyes  were  a  little  sad — 
"  but  that  was  because  I  projected  my  own  shadow  too 
strongly.  But  life  has  taught  me  many  things,  and  if 
I  had  my  way  I  would  like  every  woman  to  learn  that 
sentence  by  heart,  and  to  repeat  it  every  night  and 
morning." 

"  Will  you  say  it  over  again,  Aunt  Margaret  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  will — a  hundred  times  if  you  wish ! 
And,  Maureen,  do  please  lay  it  to  heart,  for  it  is  fragrant 
with  deep  meaning,  rosemary  and  rue  and  all  sorts  of 
precious  things,  but  you  must  break  through  the  nutshell 
first.  '  It  is  when  one  expects  nothing  more  for  oneself 
that  one  is  able  to  love.' " 

"And  that  is  all?" 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  sufficient.  What  more  do  we  need  ? 
When  we  have  learned  to  love  unselfishly,  we  have  also 
learnt  to  live  " ;  and  Margaret's  clear  hazel  eyes  held  a 
solemn,  veiled  meaning. 

Maureen  felt  a  little  startled,  but  the  next  minute 
Margaret  rose  with  a  low  laugh. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  we  have  talked  enough ;  Mistress 
and  Master  both  want  exercise.  It  is  too  lovely  an  even- 
ing to  waste  indoors ;  let  us  go  for  a  turn  on  the  Marsh." 

Maureen  ran  off  joyfully  to  put  on  her  hat.    She  could 


"Rosemary  and  Rue"  121 

not  find  out  if  Margaret  proposed  the  walk  for  her  own 
or  Maureen's  pleasure ;  but  there  was  certainly  no  trace 
of  restlessness  or  gravity  in  her  manner  as  they  walked 
briskly  down  the  road.  But  an  hour  afterwards,  as 
they  were  returning  home  in  the  summer  dusk,  she  said 
casually : 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  your  father  to  run  down  for  a 
week-end.  Of  course  he  must  choose  his  own  day,  but 
I  shall  beg  him  to  come  as  soon  as  possible.  Why  are 
you  pinching  my  arm  black-and-blue,  you  tiresome  child  ? 
Dan  is  my  brother — do  you  suppose  that  I  am  not  doing 
this  to  please  myself  as  well  as  you  ?  "  But  Maureen 
only  laughed  and  shook  her  head.  But  though  the  note 
of  invitation  was  written  that  night,  Daniel  Brydon  was 
unable  to  accept  it  for  some  weeks. 

Maureen  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  any  neglect 
on  the  part  of  her  family.  They  wrote  to  her  con- 
stantly. Margaret  used  to  look  at  the  letters  some- 
times and  observe  in  a  feeling  tone  that  poor  Button's 
work  must  be  doubled.  Sutton  was  the  Branksmere 
postman.  "  You  will  have  to  give  him  a  handsome 
Christmas  box,"  she  continued.  "  Yes,  of  course,  three 
to  my  one — your  father,  and  Irene,  and,  let  me  see,  is 
not  that  letter  from  Clive?  It  has  the  Oxford  postmark." 
Then  Maureen  took  it  from  her.  Her  eyes  were  shining 
with  pleasure. 

"  Oh,  the  dear  boy !  What  a  nice  long  letter !  "  And 
Maureen  sat  down  to  enjoy  her  feast  of  good  things. 

Margaret  always  left  her  in  peace.  "  I  shall  hear 
all  the  news  by  and  by,"  she  would  say  to  herself.  She 
knew  how  Maureen  loved  to  talk  over  her  letters  when 
she  had  fully  digested  them,  and  to  read  out  any  specially 
interesting  passage. 

It  was  Mrs.  Brydon's  custom  to  write  once  a  week  to 
any  absent  member  of  the  family,  and  she  never  deviated 
from  this  rule.  She  generally  wrote  to  Maureen  on 
Sunday.  Now  and  then,  but  at  rarer  intervals,  Mr. 
Brydon  wrote  too;  and  though  Harold  always  voted 


122  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

correspondence  a  bore,  he  did  his  duty  manfully,  and 
Maureen's  eyes  were  often  gladdened'  by  the  sight  of 
the  beloved  handwriting. 

Irene  and  the  twins  also  wrote  regularly;  but  it  was 
Sybil  who  first  started  the  idea  of  a  Journal-Letter  con- 
taining the  news  of  the  week.  "  We  shall  all  help  to 
write  it,"  she  explained,  "  and  it  will  save  no  end  of 
time  and  trouble;  and  we  shall  take  separate  days,  and 
sign  our  portion.  I  don't  believe  Entre-nous  will  join ; 
he  likes  doing  things  by  himself.  But  the  rest  of  us 
think  it  will  be  fun.  It  will  be  just  like  that  funny  story 
game :  we  shall  each  one  write  as  much  or  as  little  as 
we  like.  Lois,  who  is  fond  of  writing  letters,  says  she 
will  take  two  days.  But  we  will  try  it  next  week,  and 
you  can  answer  it  collectively  if  you  like.  The  great 
idea  is  that  you  should  share  as  much  as  possible  in  our 
daily  life." 

"  It  is  not  a  bad  plan,"  observed  Margaret ;  "  I  won- 
der how  it  will  answer." 

But  the  Sisters'  Journal,  as  they  called  it,  proved 
quite  a  success.  Perhaps  Irene's  portion  was  the  most 
satisfactory.  If  she  undertook  a  thing  she  always  did 
it  well,  and  spared  herself  no  time  and  trouble.  Lois 
wrote  copiously,  but  her  style  was  uneven;  she  under- 
lined her  words  too  much,  and  her  digressions  were  a 
little  bewildering.  Sybil  wrote  more  briefly  and  to  the 
point,  and  Ivy's  school-girl  scrawl  was  naive  and  re- 
freshing. It  always  reached  Maureen  on  a  Wednesday, 
and  with  all  its  imperfections  it  certainly  told  her  all 
she  wanted  to  know. 

Irene  was  Maureen's  chief  confidante,  but  now  and 
then  she  wrote  long  descriptive  letters  to  the  collective 
Journalists,  which  were  much  appreciated  in  the  home 
circle. 

On  the  whole,  Maureen  spent  a  good  deal  of  time 
over  her  correspondence — "  her  paper  chat,"  as  she 
termed  it.  But  Margaret  never  interfered  with  her.  She 
only  made  it  a  condition  that  she  should  write  out  of 


"Rosemary  and  Rue"  123 

doors  whenever  the  weather  permitted.  So  Maureen 
carried  her  little  sloping  blotting-case  into  all  manner 
of  sunny  and  sheltered  corners  of  the  old  garden. 

"  After  all,  it  is  a  nice  old  world,"  she  wrote  one 
lovely  June  morning,  "  and,  my  dear  Lady  Journalists, 
I  hope  you  all  agree  with  me.  I  wonder  if  you  really 
have  an  idea  of  how  comfortable  I  am,  and  how  good 
Aunt  Margaret  is  to  me.  But  there,  if  I  once  let  myself 
go  on  that  subject,  I  shall  have  no  room  for  anything 
else,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  a  little  about  our  friends. 

"  We  go  a  good  deal  to  the  Rectory,  and  I  am  get- 
ting quite  fond  of  Mrs.  Whitworth.  With  all  her  funny 
little  ways,  she  is  the  dearest  old  lady,  and  I  foresee 
that  we  shall  be  great  friends.  She  is  very  fond  of 
young  people,  and  has  always  longed  for  a  daughter. 
I  believe  she  lost  two  or  three  baby  boys,  and  that  Mr. 
Whitworth  was  the  only  one  to  grow  up,  and  she  per- 
fectly idolises  him.  When  we  are  alone  together  she 
talks  of  little  else.  She  shows  me  little  miniatures  and 
pictures  of  him  when  he  wras  a  baby  and  in  various  stages 
of  boyhood,  and  is  full  of  anecdotes  of  his  wonderful 
sayings  and  doings;  not  that  they  seem  wonderful  to 
me,  but  I  listen  with  intelligent  sympathy.  I  really  do 
believe  that  she  thinks  there  is  no  one  like  the  rector, 
and  yet  I  am  not  sure  that  I  find  him  particularly  inter- 
esting. He  has  kind  eyes,  and  he  is  very  good  to  his 
people,  especially  if  they  are  in  trouble,  and  he  is  very 
studious  and  learned  ;  but  there  is  a  sort  of  gentle  abstrac- 
tion about  him,  as  though  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 
But  here  comes  Aunt  Maggie  with  my  new  green  smock, 
and  I  have  just  remembered  that  I  promised  to  help  her 
weed  the  paths  on  the  Madeira  Walk.  So  good-bye, 
little  girls,  until  to-morrow,  and  my  blessing  on  you  all." 

But  the  next  day  Maureen  took  up  her  pen  again. 
"  Well,  dears,  here  I  am  beginning  again  about  the 
rector.  But  was  it  not  strange,  I  was  asking  Aunt 
Margaret  last  evening  if  she  did  not  think  it  a  great 
pity  that  he  was  so  silent  and  dreamy  at  times,  and  she 


124  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

seemed  quite  surprised,  and  said  that  she  was  so  used 
to  him  that  she  never  noticed  his  little  peculiarities? 

" '  But  there  is  such  an  air  of  remoteness  about  him.' 
I  objected.  *  I  suppose  he  really  hears  what  people  say, 
but  he  does  not  appear  to  listen.' 

" '  You  are  quite  wrong,  Maureen/  she  returned ; 
'  I  can  assure  you  that  nothing  escapes  the  rector.  His 
sense  of  hearing  is  quite  abnormal,  and  if  you  were  to 
question  him  on  any  subject  that  had  been  discussed  and 
discussed  in  his  presence  you  would  find  that  he  had 
heard  and  digested  every  word.  But  I  am  aware  that 
people  often  carry  away  this  impression;  but  as  I  want 
you  to  appreciate  him  properly,  I  will  tell  you  something 
about  him,  and  then  you  will  understand  him  better.' 

"  And  oh,  my  dears,  it  was  such  a  sad,  tragical  lit- 
tle story  she  told  me.  I  was  always  so  sorry  for  poor 
Mr.  Torrance  losing  his  beautiful  young  wife  and  baby 
girl,  but  somehow  Mr.  Whitworth's  appears  sadder  still. 

"  It  seems  that  when  Mr.  Whitworth  was  a  young 
man  he  had  a  curacy  in  the  north  of  England.  His 
mother,  who  was  then  a  widow,  lived  with  him.  I  be- 
lieve this  was  the  happiest  time  in  his  life.  He  was  very 
intimate  with  the  vicar's  family,  and  after  a  few  months 
he  fell  in  love  with  the  eldest  daughter,  and  they  were 
engaged.  Her  name  was  Dorothy  Osborne — such  a 
pretty,  quaint  old  name,  and  it  reminds  me  of  that 
Dorothy  Osborne  who  wrote  such  delightful  letters  to 
her  lover,  Sir  William  Temple.  She  must  have  been  a 
sweet  creature,  and  poor  Mr.  Whitworth's  Dorothy  must 
have  been  sweet  too.  Not  that  she  was  a  bit  pretty; 
Mrs.  Whitworth  told  Aunt  Margaret  that  she  was  rather 
plain  than  otherwise,  but  that  Bryan  fairly  worshipped 
her.  During  the  three  years  they  were  engaged  they 
seemed  everything  to  each  other.  Well,  I  will  hurry 
through  the  rest  of  the  story  or  Lois  will  cry  her  eyes 
out.  It  was  just  a  week  before  the  wedding,  and  she 
went  over  to  Leeds  to  see  a  married  sister  who  had  just 
had  a  baby.  Dorothy  was  to  be  godmother.  There  was 


"Rosemary  and  Rue"  125 

a  railway  accident,  a  dreadful  one,  and  Dorothy  was 
too  much  hurt  to  recover.  She  did  not  die  for  some 
days,  and  her  mother  and  Mr.  Whitworth  were  with  her 
to  the  last.  In  spite  of  his  own  grief,  he  ministered  to 
her  and  comforted  her,  without  any  thought  of  himself, 
but  only  his  mother  knew  what  he  must  have  suffered 
during  that  terrible  time.  He  has  never  married — he 
never  will  marry,  Aunt  Margaret  says — he  seems  quite 
content  with  his  parish  work  and  books  and  his  mother's 
society.  When  I  told  Aunt  Margaret  that  I  liked  him 
all  the  better  for  his  faithfulness  to  Dorothy,  she  said 
quietly : 

"  '  She  was  not  his  wife  certainly,  but  I  expect  he 
felt  as  though  she  were.  When  a  man  is  married  in 
heart  and  spirit  to  the  woman  he  loves — when  they  are 
really  and  truly  mated — a  second  love  is  well-nigh  im- 
possible/ And  I  suppose  she  is  right."  But  though 
Maureen  repeated  Margaret's  words,  she  made  no  com- 
ment on  the  strange  look  of  pain  in  her  eyes. 

More  than  once  she  recalled  it,  and  asked  herself 
what  it  had  meant;  but  she  could  find  no  clue  to  the 
mystery.  She  was  beginning  to  realise  more  and  more 
that  there  were  hidden  depths  in  Margaret's  nature  which 
her  girlish  intelligence  could  not  yet  fathom. 


XIV 

A  GOOD  COMRADE 

Learn  that  if  to  thee  the  meaning 

Of  all  other  eyes  be  shown, 
Fewer  eyes  can  ever  front  thee 

That  are  skilled  to  read  thine  own; 

And  that  if  thy  love's  deep  current 

Many  another's   far  outflows, 
Then  thy  heart  must  take  for  ever 

Less  than  it  bestows. 

JEAN  INGELOW. 

ONE  lovely  June  afternoon  Maureen  had  gone  to 
Gayton  Lodge  to  play  tennis  with  the  Brant  girls. 
Later  on  there  was  to  be  a  grand  Tennis  Tournament, 
with  handsome  prizes  to  be  given  to  the  winners,  and 
Maureen,  who  was  very  keen  on  the  game,  had  got 
into  the  habit  of  going  round  once  or  twice  a  week  for 
practice. 

The  Brants  were  friendly,  hospitable  people;  they 
entertained  largely;  they  were  well  connected;  General 
Brant  had  been  a  distinguished  officer ;  and  one  generally 
met  nice  people  at  the  Lodge. 

Maureen  described  the  family  once  for  her  sisters' 
benefit. 

"  The  General  had  been  dead  some  years,"  she  wrote. 
"  Aunt  Margaret  says  he  was  such  a  fine  old  man ;  but 
his  widow  seems  remarkably  cheerful.  Aunt  Maggie 
says  I  must  not  judge,  and  that  Mrs.  Brant  felt  his 
death  keenly,  but  that  the  Brant  nature  is  more  buoyant 
and  cork-like  than  other  people's,  and  that  however 
deeply  they  may  be  submerged  in  their  troubles,  they 
soon  rise  to  the  surface  again.  And  of  course  this  may 
be  perfectly  true. 

"  Mrs.  Brant  is  certainly  the  biggest  and  most  genial 

126 


A  Good  Comrade  127 

of  women.  Everything  about  her  is  large ;  not  only  her 
ample  figure,  but  her  voice — without  being  aggressively 
loud  it  seems  to  dominate  the  room ;  when  Mrs.  Brant 
is  talking  it  is  quite  impossible  to  hear  your  neighbour 
speak,  and  her  laugh  puts  one  in  good-humour  at  once. 
She  is  such  a  good-looking  woman  too. 

"  Her  daughters  take  after  her :  they  are  what  peo- 
ple call  fine  young  women.  Hermione,  the  elder,  is  the 
handsomer,  but  Ginerva — or  Jenny,  as  they  call  her — is 
more  to  my  taste,  and  I  think  I  like  her  best.  Then 
there  is  an  orphaned  niece  of  the  General's  living  with 
them.  Her  name  is  Thora,  and  she  is  as  unlike  them 
as  possible.  She  is  the  most  mannish  young  lady  I  have 
ever  met ;  if  you  only  saw  the  upper  half  of  her  in  the 
dim  light  you  would  certainly  take  her  for  a  man.  I  did 
for  half  a  minute ;  but  it  was  between  lights,  and  I  could 
not  see  her  back  hair. 

"  She  is  very  tall  and  thin,  and  wears  tailor-made 
tweed  garments,  short  skirts,  a  manly  sort  of  coat,  turned 
down  collar  and  tie,  a  close  felt  billycock  hat,  and  hair 
brushed  away  from  her  temples.  She  has  a  clever  three- 
cornered  sort  of  face  too — I  hardly  know  how  to  describe 
it.  Very  thin  and  determined-looking,  rather  like  a  clever 
young  barrister's  who  cannot  obtain  a  brief,  and  who 
is  not  sure  of  getting  a  good  dinner, — not  a  bit  a  womanly 
face.  But  the  funny  part  is,  her  voice  does  not  match 
in  the  least,  it  is  quite  nice  and  gentle. 

"  Her  cousins  are  very  good  to  her,  though  they 
laugh  at  her  and  call  her  crank  to  her  face.  All  her 
pursuits  are  manly.  She  likes  golf  and  hockey  and 
tennis,  yes,  and  cricket  too,  and  she  is  a  good  shot,  and 
never  walks  less  than  ten  miles  a  day.  You  meet  her 
at  all  hours  with  Booby,  the  sheep-dog,  walking  as 
though  for  a  wager,  and  I  am  afraid — but  I  will  spare 
Irene's  feelings — still,  I  did  once  see  a  natty  little  silver 
match-box  which  certainly  told  tales. 

"Judge  of  my  surprise,  then,  when  Jenny  one  day 
told  me  that  Thora  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  an 


128  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

eccentric  old  squire  at  Felsham  thirty  years  older  than 
herself.  '  Mother  approves,  because  Mr.  Harewood 
comes  of  a  good  old  family/  Jenny  explained  to  me. 
'  And  he  is  really  a  gentleman,  although  you  would  not 
guess  it  from  his  appearance.  He  is  the  roughest  and 
toughest  piece  of  humanity  I  ever  saw.  But  Thora 
thinks  him  far  preferable  to  the  modern  young  man. 
His  name  is  Erasmus,  and  he  reads  nothing  but  his 
Bible  and  the  newspaper.  Fishing  is  his  hobby,  espe- 
cially salmon-fishing,  and  I  believe  the  similarity  of  their 
tastes  on  this  subject  brought  about  the  engagement. 
They  are  the  most  undemonstrative  couple;  they  seldom 
meet,  and  I  don't  believe  he  would  have  given  her  an 
engagement  ring  if  mother  had  not  reminded  him  of 
the  omission;  and  then  he  gave  her  a  seal  ring  of  his 
own.  It  is  a  shabby,  old-fashioned  thing,  and  Hermione 
and  I  were  quite  cross  about  it ;  but  Thora  said  it  would 
do  very  well,  and  that  she  hated  smart  rings.  "  Mr. 
Harewood  and  I  do  not  care  for  finery,"  she  added.  And 
then  Ginerva  went  on  rather  wickedly :  "  Can  you  fancy 
Thora  in  a  wedding  dress?  If  she  condescends  to  wear 
one  it  will  be  cut  as  straight  as  a  satin  shroud ;  but  I 
expect  she  will  get  a  new  tweed  for  the  occasion.'  There, 
I  have  gossiped  enough — ta-ta,  my  girlies." 

The  afternoon  was  so  warm  and  sunny  that  Margaret 
ordered  tea  to  be  brought  out  on  the  tennis  lawn,  there 
was  plenty  of  shade  there.  She  was  expecting  a  visitor, 
and  she  was  not  sorry  that  Maureen  would  be  out.  Now 
and  then  she  liked  to  have  her  old  friend  Henry  Tor- 
ranee  to  herself.  It  was  his  birthday,  and  since  his  wife's 
death  he  had  always  put  in  an  appearance  on  that  day. 
Margaret  told  Maureen  so  quite  frankly,  she  had  no 
mysteries  with  regard  to  Henry  Torrance.  "  He  is  one 
of  my  oldest  friends,"  she  said  quite  simply,  and  then 
she  showed  the  gift  she  had  ready  for  him.  It  was  an 
umbrella,  the  best  of  its  kind,  with  his  name  and  address 
engraved  on  the  handle. 

"  It   is   a   very   handsome   present,   Aunt   Maggie," 


A  Good  Comrade  129 

returned  Maureen.  There  was  a  faint  suspicion  of  sur- 
prise in  her  voice;  it  brought  a  slight  tinge  of  colour 
to  Margaret's  face. 

"  He  has  helped  me  a  great  deal,"  she  answered. 
"  And  I  knew  it  was  what  he  wanted.  He  is  so  dread- 
fully careless  with  his  belongings ;  to  my  knowledge  he 
has  lost  three  umbrellas  in  the  last  two  years,  that  is 
why  I  have  had  the  name  and  address  inscribed,  that  the 
finder  may  send  it  back.  I  think  myself  it  is  a  very 
nice  one,"  she  observed  complacently. 

It  has  been  said  before  that  Margaret  had  a  genius 
for  friendship.  She  certainly  had  no  illusions  with 
regard  to  her  own  and  Henry  Torrance's  feelings  "  When 
a  man  is  married  in  heart  and  spirit  to  the  woman  he 
loves — when  they  are  really  and  truly  mated — a  second 
love  is  well-nigh  impossible,"  she  had  said  to  Maureen, 
and  the  girl  had  not  known  that  she  was  speaking  of 
Henry  Torrance,  and  that  in  her  heart  of  hearts  Margaret 
knew  that  Esther's  husband  would  always  be  her  faithful 
widower,  and  that  no  other  woman  would  ever  take  her 
place. 

"  He  cares  for  me  more  than  for  any  living  person, 
and  in  many  ways  I  am  absolutely  necessary  to  him," 
she  once  said  to  herself ;  "  but  if  the  world  lasted  till 
doomsday  we  should  never  be  man  and  wife."  And, 
strange  to  say,  Margaret  had  in  time  learnt  to  say  this 
without  the  old  stinging  pain. 

And  yet  she  loved  him,  had  always  loved  him,  and 
would  continue  to  do  so  to  the  day  of  her  death.  But 
in  the  secrecy  of  her  chamber  she  often  thanked  God 
that  the  intensity  of  her  passion  had  been  subdued  and 
changed  into  the  purest  and  most  sisterly  affection.  And 
yet,  as  Anna  Brydon  surmised,  it  had  passed  through 
the  refiner's  furnace.  Fourteen  years  before  Margaret 
had  thought  herself  beloved.  There  was  not  a  cloud 
on  her  woman's  horizon.  Not  for  one  moment  did  she 
doubt  that  one  day  Henry  Torrance  would  ask  her  to 
be  his  wife.  His  acts,  his  looks,  his  little  lover-like  ten- 

9 


130  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

dernesses  told  her  that  he  loved  her.  And  that  evening 
he  had  gone  farther;  he  had  taken  her  hands  and  com- 
pelled her  to  look  at  him.  "  Margaret,"  he  had  said, 
"  I  am  not  a  rich  man,  but  I  think  I  have  enough  to 

make  a  woman  comfortable,  and  if  you  could  care " 

And  here  the  interruption  came.  "  In  another  moment 
he  would  have  finished  his  sentence,"  she  would  say  to 
herself  with  that  anguish  which  is  so  insupportable  to 
a  proud  nature ;  "  but  if  I  were  on  my  oath,  I  would  say 
that  that  evening  he  certainly  meant  to  ask  me  to  marry 
him."  And  of  course  she  was  right. 

Henry  Torrance's  fickleness  was  due  to  circumstances, 
not  to  nature.  If  he  had  never  seen  Esther's  lovely  face, 
he  would  have  married  Margaret  and  lived  happily  ever 
afterwards.  But  it  is  also  true  that  he  would  never 
have  loved  her  as  he  loved  Esther.  Margaret  was  his 
friend,  his  good  comrade,  his  world  would  have  been 
a  desert  without  her;  but  it  never  occurred  to  him  to 
put  out  his  hand  to  her  and  say :  "  Margaret,  come  home ; 
let  the  same  roof  shelter  us  both."  And  Margaret  never 
expected  him  to  say  it. 

Fourteen  years  before  she  had  fought  her  battle;  it 
liad  been  a  hard  one,  as  it  always  is  to  an  earnest  soul, 
but  in  the  end  she  had  conquered. 

In  looking  back  at  that  time  of  stress  and  trouble, 
Margaret  marvelled  at  her  own  powers  of  endurance. 

"  I  could  not  have  done  it  in  my  own  strength,"  she 
would  say  to  herself.  "  I  was  helped,  thank  God !  He 
never  failed  me." 

But  there  were  times  when  her  courage  and  simple 
faith  almost  deserted  her,  when  her  burden  seemed  too 
heavy  to  be  borne,  and  she  would  have  given  all  she 
possessed  to  have  shaken  off  the  dust  of  Branksmere. 
But  Mrs.  Rayner  was  just  then  in  sore  trouble  and  she 
could  not  leave  her. 

Her  daily  task  was  not  a  light  one.  She  had  not  only 
to  conceal  her  inward  pain  from  watchful  and  loving 
eyes,  but  she  had  to  tutor  herself  to  receive  Henry  Tor- 


A  Good  Comrade  131 

ranee  with  her  old  friendliness,  and  to  welcome  her  inno- 
cent and  unconscious  rival  with  kindness  and  considera- 
tion. There  must  be  no  evidence  of  wounded  pride  in 
her  bearing,  nothing  strained  and  awkward  in  her  man- 
ner; she  must  not  fail  in  gentle  courtesy,  and  then  per- 
haps he  would  forget  that  he  had  ever  imagined  himself 
in  love  with  her.  Men  forget  so  easily,  she  would  add 
with  natural  bitterness. 

And  then  came  the  tragedy  of  Henry  Torrance's 
life.  Strange  to  say,  the  news  of  Esther's  death  was 
an  awful  shock  to  Margaret.  She  had  grown  to  love 
her ;  she  had  become  accustomed  to  the  sight  of  their 
happiness,  and  time,  that  universal  healer,  had  allevi- 
ated her  pain.  Her  healthy  nature  had  refused  to  be 
crushed.  She  was  still  young  and  the  world  was  beau- 
tiful, and  she  had  many  dear  ones  who  needed  her.  Dan 
and  Anna  and  the  children,  and  her  old  friend  Mrs. 
Rayner.  What  if  she  lived  and  died  in  single  blessedness, 
would  she  be  worse  off  than  thousands  of  other  women 
who  had  no  one  to  work  for  them? 

"  One  must  not  choose  one's  cross,"  she  would  say 
to  herself  in  her  Sunday  afternoon  meditations.  "  I  did 
so  long  to  have  children  of  my  own.  When  I  was  quite 
a  little  girl  I  used  to  build  imaginary  air-castles  and 
people  them  with  little  ones.  I  even  gave  them  names. 
There  was  a  blue-eyed  Dora,  I  remember.  Oh,  how  silly 
one  is  in  youth !  "  And  Margaret  laughed,  though  there 
were  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  It  was  so  dear  and  amusing, 
but  it  was  a  dreadful  waste  of  time.  Ah  well,  one  learns 
wisdom  in  time-;  I  know  now  that  one  can  be  happy  to 
mother  other  women's  children." 

When  Henry  Torrance,  in  his  loneliness  and  grief, 
turned  to  his  old  friend  for  sympathy,  Margaret  gave 
it  him  freely;  but  she  never  for  one  moment  deceived 
herself  with  any  illusive  hopes.  She  knew  exactly  the 
extent  of  her  influence  over  him :  he  was  broken-hearted, 
his  home  was  in  ruins,  and  as  far  as  it  lay  in  her  power 
to  comfort  him,  she  was  ready  to  pour  out  of  her  abun- 


132  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

dance.  She  would  grudge  him  nothing — time,  trouble, 
or  sympathy — and  the  world  might  say  what  it  liked 
and  she  would  pay  no  heed. 

But  this  was  all  ancient  history.  At  the  present 
period  Margaret's  generosity  had  brought  its  reward. 
Her  life  was  richer  and  fuller  than  most  unmarried 
women's  and  her  lap  was  filled  with  blessing.  She  had 
independence,  easy  means,  and  a  good  home,  and  she 
was  Henry  Torrance's  trusty  comrade  and  friend.  And 
now  her  favourite  niece,  the  one  most  in  touch  with  her, 
had  come  to  live  under  her  roof;  and  Margaret  sung  her 
daily  Magnificat  with  a  grateful  heart. 

Margaret  had  put  on  her  pansy-coloured  silk  in  honour 
of  the  occasion.  It  was  by  no  means  new — one  of  the 
breadths  was  a  little  faded — but  it  made  a  pretty  spot 
of  colour  as  she  stood  under  the  trees  arranging  her 
tea-table.  Henry  Torrance  thought  so  as  he  walked 
across  the  lawn.  He  had  two  or  three  Gloire  de  Dijon 
roses  in  his  hand,  which  he  offered  her  with  a  smile. 

"  You  look  quite  a  picture,  Margaret,"  he  said,  pleas- 
antly. "Is  that  a  new  gown,  you  extravagant  woman?" 
Then  Margaret  shook  her  head  at  him.  She  was  fasten- 
ing the  roses  in  her  bodice. 

"  That  is  so  like  a  man,"  she  observed  when  she  had 
finished.  "  My  dear  sir,  just  look  here  and  here,"  and 
Margaret  took  hold  of  her  dress  as  though  she  were 
going  to  dance  a  minuet,  and  brought  the  faded  streaks 
into  view.  "  My  favourite  and  most  clearly  beloved  of 
gowns,"  she  continued  mournfully,  "  fading,  absolutely 
fading  before  my  eyes." 

Mr.  Torrance  looked  amused.  She  was  so  absorbed 
with  her  dress  that  she  had  forgotten  to  give  him  the 
usual  birthday  greeting,  but  he  was  not  going  to  remind 
her. 

"  You  can  afford  to  buy  a  new  one  now,"  he  re- 
marked, lightly. 

"  That  was  the  very  thing  I  was  saying  to  my  sell 
just  now,"  she  returned,  delightedly.  "  I  shall  invest  in 


A  Good  Comrade  133 

a  new  wine-coloured  silk.  I  think  it  will  be  lovely.  I 
must  talk  it  over  with  Maureen.  By  the  bye,  Henry, 
she  cksired  me  to  give  you  her  love  and  say  that  she 
was  sorry  to  miss  you." 

"  Are  you  sure  she  sent  her  love  ?  "  he  asked,  rather 
abruptly. 

Then  Margaret  blushed  a  little  at  her  own  careless- 
ness. "  No,  of  course  it  was  her  kind  regards.  My 
wits  were  wool-gathering  as  usual."  Then  holding  out 
her  hand  to  him  with  one  of  her  beaming  smiles,  "  And 
I  have  never  given  you  my  good  wishes— did  you  think 
I  had  forgotten  ?  "  And  then  she  offered  him  her  little 
gift,  and  watched  him  with  pleased  eyes  as  he  unfurled 
it  and  examined  it  carefully. 

"  It  is  far  too  handsome,"  he  said,  seriously ;  "  any 
old  gingham  would  have  been  good  enough  for  such  a 
careless  fellow.  But  I  will  promise  not  to  lose  this; 
it  shall  live  to  be  recovered." 

"  I  shall  rely  on  that  promise.  Now  draw  up  to  the 
table  and  let  me  give  you  some  tea."  There  was  mar- 
vellous content  in  Margaret's  tone.  She  spoke  with  the 
buoyant  cheerfulness  of  a  child.  She  for  once  did  not 
regret  Maureen's  absence.  Now  and  then  she  liked  to 
have  a  tcte-a-tcte  with  her  old  friend. 

Strange  to  say,  Mr.  Torrance  echoed  her  thoughts. 
"  I  am  so  glad  to  find  you  alone  this  afternoon,"  he 
said,  quietly ;  "  your  niece  is  a  charming  girl,  and  I  like 
her  immensely,  but  it  is  pleasant  to  have  one  of  our  old 
talks,  eh,  Margaret?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  she  returned  with  her  usual  warm  response 
to  his  mood.  "  But  I  am  so  glad  you  like  Maureen ;  she 
is  such  a  dear,  unselfish  child,  and  I  have  always  been  so 
fond  of  her." 

"  And  her  coming  has  made  you  happier?  "  he  asked, 
with  quiet  interest. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  I  needed  to  be  happier,"  she 
returned,  frankly ;  "  one  is  rather  afraid  of  carrying  a 
brimming  cup.  But  you  know  what  I  mean.  Maureen 


134  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

certainly  makes  a  great  difference  to  me.  It  is  like 
opening  all  one's  windows  wide  for  air  and  sunshine. 
That  is  the  best  of  young  people — they  are  so  breezy, 
they  blow  all  the  dust  away." 

"  I  should  not  have  thought  you  had  any  dusty  cor- 
ners," he  returned,  quickly.  "  I  think  you  are  the  most 
contented  woman  I  know.  When  I  want  to  be  freshened 
up  and  get  rid  of  all  my  cobwebs,  I  just  stroll  across  to 
the  Garden  House.  '  Margaret  will  talk  to  me  and  do 
me  good,'  I  say  to  myself." 

"  Do  I  always  do  you  good  ? "  she  asked,  a  little 
wistfully. 

"  Yes,  always,"  was  the  unhesitating  reply.  "  When 
I  have  been  with  you  half-an-hour  I  seem  to  take  a 
fresh  lease  of  life;  things  look  more  hopeful  altogether. 
This  morning  I  had  a  very  worrying  bit  of  business. 
A  man  whom  I  always  thought  honest  turned  out  to 
be  a  fraudulent  rascal.  That  sort  of  thing  is  pretty 
sickening,  especially  as  it  involves  trouble  on  innocent 
people." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry,  and  on  your  birthday,  too !  " 
Margaret  spoke  in  a  soft,  cooing  voice.  He  smiled 
rather  gravely  in  answer,  but  he  was  willing  to  humour 
her. 

"  On  my  forty-eighth  birthday  to  turn  up  a  knave ! 
Sad,  was  it  not?  But,  my  dear  friend,  we  lawyers  see 
the  rough  as  well  as  the  smooth  side  of  life.  We  cannot 
always  separate  the  sheep  from  the  goats  in  this  world ; 
the  tares, and  the  wheat  grow  together;  the  good  and 
the  bad  are  jumbled  up  anyhow;  and  we  have  to  make 
the  best  of  it,  and  grope  our  way  by  the  light  of  our 
own  little  farthing  dips." 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  like  to  be  a  lawyer,  Henry," 
returned  Margaret^  with  unusual  seriousness.  "  By  the 
bye,  talking  of  business,  there  is  a  letter  I  ought  to  show 
you.  Mallinger  has  sent  in  an  account  rendered,  and 
I  cannot  find  the  receipt." 


A  Good  Comrade  135 

"  I  remember  putting  it  on  the  file  myself,"  he  re- 
turned ;  "  it  is  certainly  paid.  We  have  finished  tea, 
and  if  you  will  allow  me  I  will  bring  the  file  out  here 
and  we  will  go  through  it  together.  You  are  some- 
times too  quick  to  be  strictly  accurate " ;  and  Henry 
Torrance  proved  the  truth  of  his  words  when  the  missing 
receipt  came  duly  to  light. 


XV 

MAUREEN'S  ADVENTURE 

Do   the   work  that's  nearest, 

Though  it's  dull  at  whiles ; 
Helping  when  you  meet  them 

Lame  dogs  over  stiles. 

CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 

A  FEW  days  after  this  Maureen  had  a  little  adventure. 
It  did  not  amount  to  much  certainly,  but  it  furnished 
matter  for  an  exceedingly  long  and  amusing  letter  to 
the  Sister  Journalists. 

It  was  one  afternoon  when  Margaret  was  busy  with 
a  school  committee  that  Maureen  announced  her  inten- 
tion of  cycling  over  to  Hawkhurst — a  village  about  five 
or  six  miles  from  Branksmere — and  as  usual  Margaret 
applauded  the  idea.  It  was  a  lovely  afternoon,  she 
observed;  warm  but  not  oppressively  so.  And  there 
was  always  a  refreshing  breeze  blowing  from  the  sea 
across  the  Marsh. 

"  If  you  could  only  have  a  pleasant  companion/'  she 
added  regretfully.  But  Maureen  declared  that  she  was 
just  in  the  mood  for  a  solitary  ride.  Margaret  stood  at 
the  door  and  watched  her  until  she  was  out  of  sight. 
"  Dear  child,  I  think  she  is  beginning  to  be  happy  with 
me,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  went  up  to  prepare  for 
the  committee  meeting. 

Maureen  had  a  delightful  ride.  When  she  reached 
Hawkhurst  she  looked  over  the  church  and  churchyard. 
Then  she  got  a  glass  of  milk  and  a  few  biscuits  in  the 
village,  as  she  did  not  intend  to  hurry  back ;  indeed,  it 
was  nearly  five  before  she  began  her  return  journey. 

All  had  gone  well  until  she  turned  down  a  narrow 
lane  which  branched  off  from  the  main  road,  when  she 
suddenly  found  herself  involved  in  difficulties.  They 

136 


Maureen's  Adventure  137 

were  mending  the  road.  The  tooting  of  a  horn  behind 
heralded  the  near  approach  of  a  motor.  A  huge  brewer's 
dray  was  coming  towards  her.  There  was  no  room  to 
pass,  and  in  her  haste  to  gain  a  place  of  safety  she 
swerved  round  too  quickly;  her  bicycle  struck  against 
a  heap  of  stones,  and  the  next  moment  she  and  her  iron 
steed  were  landed  in  a  dry  deep  ditch. 

The  dray  rumbled  noisily  over  the  stones.  Evidently 
the  driver  had  not  perceived  her,  the  hood  had  concealed 
her  from  view.  What  had  become  of  the  motor?  that 
was  Maureen's  first  thought  as  she  sat  up  and  straight- 
ened her  hat.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  had  taken  another 
road.  She  would  get  out  of  the  narrow  lane  herself 
as  soon  as  possible. 

She  brushed  the  dust  from  her  dress;  laughed  at 
her  own  awkwardness,  and  the  ridiculous  tableau  she 
must  have  presented.  Then,  as  the  coast  seemed  clear, 
she  mounted  again  and  rode  cautiously  until  the  road 
widened,  and  then — what  had  happened?  Something 
was  wrong  with  her  bicycle.  She  jumped  off  and  ex- 
amined it.  Yes,  it  was  punctured;  riding  over  those 
horrid  stones  must  have  done  it.  She  must  blow  up 
the  tyre  and  ride  very  carefully.  There  were  five  miles 
before  her  and  it  was  getting  late.  Again  she  mounted 
and  rode  on  slowly,  but  before  she  had  gone  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  she  felt  there  was  something  seriously  wrong 
with  the  machine.  She  sat  down  on  a  grassy  bank  to 
investigate  it.  If  only  she  had  somebody  with  her;  for 
whatever  was  the  mischief  it  was  clearly  impossible  for 
her  to  ride  with  safety.  She  must  just  trudge  back  the 
five  miles  propelling  it  as  she  best  could. 

"  I  don't  mind  a  bit  for  myself,"  she  thought,  "  but 
Aunt  Margaret  will  be  so  anxious  if  I  do  not  turn  up 
in  time  for  dinner,  and  I  certainly  shall  not  at  this  rate." 

She  checked  her  jeremiad  as  she  caught  sight  of 
a  motor  coming  rapidly  down  the  road.  The  next  mo- 
ment it  was  opposite  to  her,  and  she  recognised  Mr. 
Chaytor.  He  pulled  up  at  once. 


138  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

"  I  trust  you  have  not  met  with  an  accident,"  he  said, 
courteously  enough,  but  his  keen  eyes  gave  her  a  search- 
ing look.  Perhaps  she  was  still  a  little  battered  and 
dusty,  rather  an  unpresentable-looking  object,  but  it  was 
no  good  thinking  of  that.  Maureen  laughed  nervously 
as  she  explained  her  predicament. 

The  lane  was  so  narrow  that  a  brewer's  dray  had 
completely  blocked  it  up,  and  she  had  had  no  room  to 
pass.  She  had  manipulated  her  machine  awkwardly 
and  landed  herself  in  a  ditch. 

"  But  you  are  not  hurt,  I  hope  ?  "  in  a  civil,  pleasant 
voice. 

"  Oh  no,  oh  dear  no !  "  with  the  bright  sunshiny  smile 
which  always  lit  up  the  little  brown  face  so  pleasantly. 
"  But  I  am  afraid  my  bicycle  is  badly  damaged,  and  I 
am  five  miles  away  from  home." 

"  That  can  easily  be  remedied."  Mr.  Chaytor  spoke 
in  a  cool,  matter-of-fact  voice.  "  I  believe  that  you  are 
staying  with  Miss  Brydon  at  the  Garden  House  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  her  niece.     My  name  is  also  Brydon." 

He  raised  his  cap  slightly.  "  We  are  neighbours 
then.  My  name  is  Chaytor,  and  I  live  at  Marsh  Hall. 
As  we  are  going  in  the  same  direction,  I  shall  be  able 
to  take  you  and  your  machine  without  the  slightest  in- 
convenience. If  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  just  examine 
it,  and  then  I  will  get  it  into  the  tonneau."  And  before 
Maureen  could  answer  he  stepped  down  into  the  road. 

Maureen  told  Margaret  afterwards  that  she  just  had 
presence  of  mind  to  suppress  an  exclamation  as  Mr. 
Chaytor  lurched  unsteadily  towards  her. 

"  It  was  too  dreadful,"  she  said,  "  that  tall,  splendid- 
looking  man  to  be  so  horribly  lame.  I  thought  he  was 
falling,  but  I  am  so  thankful  now  that  I  held  my  tongue. 
I  think  he  was  so  bent  on  helping  me,  that  he  forgot  his 
lameness." 

"  I  believe  it  is  a  terrible  trouble  to  him,"  replied 
Margaret,  gravely,  "  and  he  hates  any  comment  or  offer 


Maureen's  Adventure  139 

of  help.  Walking  even  a  short  distance  is  very  difficult 
to  him,  and  he  lives  on  horseback  or  in  his  motor." 

When  Mr.  Chaytor  had  examined  the  bicycle  he  told 
Maureen  that  it  was  not  only  badly  punctured,  but  he 
feared  there  was  some  other  damage.  "  I  cannot  be  sure 
of  this ;  but  my  man,  Gale,  is  an  authority  on  these  mat- 
ters, and,  with  your  permission,  I  will  get  him  to  put  it 
to  rights." 

"  But  I  could  not  think  of  troubling  you,"  returned 
Maureen.  But  Mr.  Qiaytor  took  not  the  slightest  notice 
of  this  remark ;  he  lifted  the  machine  into  the  motor, 
and  then  stood  quietly  waiting  for  Maureen  to  take  her 
place. 

"  You  will  soon  find  yourself  at  the  Garden  House," 
he  observed ;  but  this  time  it  was  Maureen  who  did  not 
answer. 

She  had  never  been  in  a  motor,  and  the  rapid  gliding 
motion  was  unlike  anything  she  had  ever  known ;  it 
was  so  surprising,  so  delicious  to  be  skimming  through 
the  air  like  a  swift-winged  bird.  "  Oh,  how  delightful !  " 
she  exclaimed,  a  little  breathless  with  excitement.  "  But 
is  it  safe  ?  Do  people  always  go  so  fast  ?  " 

Mr.  Chaytor  smiled.  "  We  are  only  going  twenty 
miles  an  hour ;  but  I  will  reduce  the  speed  if  you  like. 
But  I  can  assure  you  there  is  no  need  to  be  nervous, 
I  could  put  the  brake  on  in  an  instant." 

"  I  am  not  the  least  nervous,"  returned  Maureen ; 
"  it  is  only  that  I  have  never  been  in  a  motor  before, 
and  I  never  felt  so  like  a  bird  in  my  life." 

"  I  had  no  idea  it  was  a  new  experience,"  returned 
Mr.  Chaytor,  in  an  interested  tone.  "  I  have  not  long 
had  my  car,  so  it  is  quite  a  new  toy  to  me.  I  hope 
to  motor  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  England 
before  the  year  is  out.  Poor  old  Dick  Turpin  has  a 
rival,  but  I  generally  have  a  morning  ride  over  the 
Marsh." 

"  Oh,  that  beautiful  horse — yes,  I  remember  him,"  re- 
plied Maurten.  "  Why,  there  is  Marsh  Hall  in  sight ; 


140  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

I  can  hardly  believe  it !  I  should  have  been  at  least 
two  hours  if  I  had  walked  and  steered  my  bicycle,  so 
you  can  imagine  how  grateful  I  feel  for  your  help." 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  I  came  up  at  the  right  time," 
observed  Mr.  Chaytor,  pleasantly.  And  then  they  crossed 
the  bridge  and  passed  rapidly  up  the  drive.  The  heavy 
iron  gates  were  closed,  but  as  he  sounded  his  horn  a 
man  appeared  and  threw  them  open. 

"  I  am  not  coming  in  just  now,  Drake,"  explained  his 
master,  "  but  as  I  shall  not  be  long,  you  can  leave  the 
gates  open.  Now  will  you  send  Gale  to  me?  I  want 
him  to  look  at  this  lady's  bicycle."  And  the  man  touched 
his  hat  and  hurried  away. 

Maureen  looked  curiously  through  the  open  gate- 
way at  the  wide  carriage  sweep,  with  trim  grass  borders, 
and  the  smooth  well-kept  lawn  in  front  of  the  house.  An 
archway  to  the  right  seemed  to  lead  to  some  sort  of 
garden,  for  the  tops  of  two  or  three  shady  trees  were 
visible  over  the  high  walls. 

The  house  itself  looked  even  more  like  a  fortress  on 
nearer  view.  The  door  was  heavily  clamped  with  iron 
under  a  low  stone  porch,  and  the  high  narrow  windows 
on  either  side  might  have  belonged  to  an  old  Norman 
keep.  But  Maureen  had  no  time  to  notice  more,  as  a 
slight  dark  man,  looking  like  a  confidential  servant  out 
of  livery,  came  quickly  towards  them,  and  after  a  few 
words  of  explanation  carried  off  the  bicycle.  Maureen 
liked  the  man's  face,  and  evidently  he  and  his  master 
were  on  the  best  of  terms. 

"  Gale  is  a  clever  fellow ;  he  will  soon  put  it  to  rights 
for  you,"  observed  Mr.  Chaytor,  as  they  resumed  their 
way.  "  He  is  an  all-round  man,  and  machinery — 
bicycle  or  motor — is  a  passion  with  him.  We  have  a 
regular  workshop,  he  and  I.  Gale  is  my  right  hand; 
he  has  been  all  round  the  world  with  me,  and  though 
he  is  a  silent  chap,  I  could  not  want  a  better  companion. 
He  reads  a  good  deal  and  I  lend  him  books.  I  tell 


141 

him  sometimes  that  I  am  standing  in  my  own  light;  but 
I  don't  think  he  will  ever  leave  me." 

It  was  evident  that  the  Viking  could  make  himself 
exceedingly  pleasant  if  he  chose.  Maureen  was  in- 
tensely interested.  She  was  quite  sorry  when  the  Rectory 
came  in  sight,  and  a  few  minutes  later  they  drew  up 
before  the  Garden  House. 

Margaret  was  just  letting  herself  into  the  house  with 
her  latch-key  when  the  unusual  sound  made  her  turn 
her  head.  Her  astonishment  when  she  saw  Maureen 
nodding  and  smiling  at  her  from  the  motor  was  so 
naive  and  undisguised  that  Mr.  Chaytor  seemed  amused. 

"  I  found  your  niece  in  difficulties,  Miss  Brydon,"  he 
said,  as  he  shook  hands  with  her.  "  She  had  had  a  spill 
and  damaged  her  bicycle,  so  I  offered  to  bring  her 
home." 

"  I  was  not  in  the  least  hurt !  "  exclaimed  Maureen, 
as  Margaret  looked  rather  alarmed  at  this ;  "  but  I  was 
ever  so  many  miles  from  home,  and  my  poor  machine 
was  so  badly  punctured,  so  you  may  guess  how  thank- 
ful I  was  when  Mr.  Chaytor  came  to  my  rescue.  Oh, 
Aunt  Maggie,"  rather  breathlessly,  "  if  only  you  were 
rich  enough  to  have  a  motor!  Nothing  could  be  more 
delicious  than  skimming  through  the  air  in  this  delightful 
way." 

They  both  laughed  at  the  girl's  enthusiasm ;  and  then, 
as  Mr.  Chaytor  seemed  inclined  to  move  on,  Maureen 
thanked  him  a  little  shyly.  He  gave  her  a  pleasant  look 
in  response  and  lifted  his  cap. 

"  He  might  have  shaken  hands  with  me  as  well  as 
with  Aunt  Margaret,"  she  thought,  a  little  discontentedly, 
as  she  moved  away.  But  Margaret  lingered  a  moment. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Ruth  lately,  Mr.  Chaytor  ? 
I  suppose  she  will  be  coming  to  you  this  summer  as 
usual?" 

"  She  is  coming  next  week,"  he  returned.  "  My 
uncle  is  making  some  alterations  in  his  house,  and  the 
family  are  obliged  to  turn  out.  I  believe  Ruth  will  be 


142  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

with  me  for  about  three  months  this  summer.  I  am 
afraid  it  will  be  very  dull  for  her,  poor  girl." 

"  So  you  always  say,"  returned  Margaret,  rather 
gravely,  "  but  I  know  Ruth  thinks  differently.  Tell  her 
she  must  come  and  see  me."  And  Mr.  Chaytor  prom- 
ised to  give  her  this  message. 

There  was  no  time  to  talk,  so  Maureen  hurried  away 
to  dress  for  dinner;  but  later  on  she  gave  Margaret 
a  vivid  description  of  her  adventure.  But  to  her  surprise 
Margaret  took  the  matter  rather  gravely. 

"  I  know  the  place,"  she  said,  quickly.  "  They  are 
always  patching  up  the  road,  and  there  is  hardly  room 
for  two  vehicles  to  pass  each  other.  You  might  easily 
have  sprained  your  ankle  or  dislocated  your  arm,  for 
the  ditch  is  rather  deep ;  but  it  was  a  mercy  Mr.  Chaytor 
came  to  your  help,  or  I  should  have  had  an  anxious  hour 
or  two." 

"  He  was  so  much  nicer  than  I  thought  he  would 
be,"  returned  Maureen.  "  He  was  quite  pleasant  and 
like  everybody  else." 

"  Well,  he  is  a  gentleman,  you  see,"  returned  her 
aunt,  "  and  he  would  wish  to  put  you  at  your  ease,  as 
you  were  under  his  protection.  And  I  know  from  ex- 
perience how  agreeable  he  can  be  when  he  chooses. 
Though  we  do  not  often  meet,  we  are  very  good  friends. 
Mrs.  Whitworth  tells  me  that  he  always  shows  me  his 
best  side, — people  generally  do,"  added  Margaret,  with 
a  frank  laugh, — "  though  I  am  bound  to  confess  that  he 
has  his  moods.  But  then,  poor  fellow,  he  is  so  heavily 
handicapped." 

"  Is  his  sister  at  all  like  him,  Aunt  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  She  is  only  his  half-sister,  you 
know,  and  about  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  younger  than 
himself.  She  is  a  pretty  little  thing,  and  I  am  rather 
fond  of  her.  She  will  be  a  nice  companion  for  you, 
Maureen.  She  is  quieter  and  more  refined  than  the 
Brant  girls." 


Maureen's  Adventure  143 

"  I  shall  be  very  pleased  to  make  her  acquaintance," 
returned  Maureen ;  "  but  I  don't  need  companions  when 
I  have  you,  Aunt  Maggie ;  you  are  a  host  in  yourself." 
Maureen  spoke  with  such  evident  sincerity  that  Margaret 
blushed  as  though  she  had  received  an  unexpected  com- 
pliment. 

"Did  ever  any  one  hear  the  loikes  of  that?"  she 
returned,  in  drawling  accents.  "  Sure,  you  have  been 
kissing  the  Blarney  stone,  mavourneen ! "  But  the  girl 
shook  her  head. 

"  I  really  mean  it.  There  is  something  about  you, 
Aunt  Margaret,  that  seems  to  take  the  shine  out  of  ordi- 
nary people.  You  make  everyday  life  so  interesting 
somehow,  one  forgets  the  trivial  round  and  the  ruts,  and 
the  stupid  little  jars  and  frets  and  difficulties."  But 
Margaret  refused  to  hear  another  word. 

"  If  I  were  not  the  least  conceited  of  women  you 
would  make  me  quite  vain."  But  it  was  good  to  see 
Margaret's  beaming  eyes  as  she  spoke.  "  You  are  a 
dear  little  soul,  Maureen,  and  I  am  sure  you  mean  every 
word  you  say,  but  my  conscience  refuses  to  endorse 
these  flattering  remarks  " ;  and  here  Margaret  rose  hastily 
and  went  to  the  piano. 


XVI 

A  ROCK-GARDEN 

But  the  lesson  I  have  thoroughly  learnt,  and  wish  to  pass 
on  to  others,  is  to  know  the  enduring  happiness  that  the  love 
of  a  garden  gives.  I  rejoice  when  I  see  any  one,  and  especially 
children,  inquiring  about  flowers  and  wanting  gardens  of  their 
own,  and  carefully  working  in  them.  For  the  love  of  gardening 
is  a  seed  that  once  sown  never  dies,  but  always  grows  and 
grows  to  an  enduring  and  ever-increasing  source  of  happiness. 
— GERTRUDE  JEKYLL. 

Two  days  after  Maureen's  adventure  the  bicycle  was 
brought  back  in  excellent  condition,  with  Mr.  Chaytor's 
compliments.  Maureen  would  have  sent  back  a  message 
of  thanks  by  the  bearer,  but  the  servant  informed  her 
that  his  master  had  left  home  a  few  hours  previously 
on  his  way  to  Warwick  and  Stratford-on-Avon,  and 
would  not  be  back  for  some  days. 

Maureen  remembered  Mr.  Chaytor's  words :  "  I  hope 
to  motor  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  England 
before  the  year  is  out " ;  and  she  repeated  them  to 
Margaret. 

"  I  expect  he  will  take  his  sister  with  him  on  some 
of  his  expeditions  ?  "  she  observed.  But  to  her  surprise 
Margaret  did  not  seem  to  share  this  opinion. 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  she  said,  dubiously. 
"  Ruth  is  rather  a  timid  little  thing,  and  Mr.  Chaytor 
prefers  going  about  with  only  Gale  to  bear  him  company. 
I  do  not  think  he  would  ever  take  Ruth  on  any  of  his 
long  expeditions — the  pace  would  frighten  her  to  death. " 

"  But  he  could  not  leave  her  alone  in  that  grim  old 
fortress !  "  exclaimed  Maureen,  indignantly. 

"  It  is  far  more  comfortable  than  you  imagine,"  re- 
turned Margaret,  smiling.  "  When  Ruth  comes  we  will 
pay  a  formal  call  at  Marsh  Hall,  and  then  you  shall 
judge  of  it  for  yourself.  We  shall  see  a  great  deal  of 

144 


A  Rock  Garden  145 

Rtith,  for  she  is  a  very  constant  visitor  at  the  Garden 
House,  and  I  hope  you  will  take  to  her."  But  just  then 
a  visitor  was  announced,  and  the  subject  dropped. 

Maureen  was  rather  sorry  that  Mr.  Chaytor  would 
not  be  in  church  the  next  day,  she  liked  to  hear  his 
voice  behind  her.  But  she  was  more  than  usually  en- 
gaged the  next  few  days.  Margaret  was  bent  on  turning 
a  damp,  secluded  corner  of  the  garden  into  a  small  rock- 
garden,  and  as  usual  she  worked  up  herself  and  Maureen 
into  a  state  of  enthusiasm  on  the  subject.  For  more 
than  one  evening  she  talked  of  nothing  else. 

"  I  have  been  consulting  Miss  Jekyll's  Home  and 
Garden,"  she  observed ;  "  she's  quite  an  authority  on 
rock-gardens.  Look  here,  Maureen,  let  me  read  you 
just  this  passage.  You  remember  the  corner  I  mean 
— with  those  ragged  shrubs  and  the  dingy-looking 
yew?" 

"  The  place  you  call  your  rubbish  heap  ?  Oh  yes, 
of  course  I  remember  it.  There  were  some  snails  and 
dock-leaves  and  a  thistle  or  two.  It  is  the  only  ugly 
corner  in  the  whole  garden." 

"  Just  so,"  returned  Margaret,  triumphantly.  "  But 
I  mean  to  wave  the  wand  that  the  fairy  order  gave  me, 
and  transform  the  rubbish  heap  into  a  charming  rock- 
garden.  I  shall  set  Giles  to  work  to-morrow  to  dig  up 
the  shrubs  and  cut  down  the  yew.  Now  just  listen  to 
this:  'It  (the  rock-garden)  is  absolutely  artificial,  and 
only  pretends  to  be  a  suitable  home  for  certain  small 
plants  that  I  love.  .  .  .  Four  broad  and  shallow  steps 
lead  down  to  the  path-level.  There  is  a  long-shaped  is- 
land in  the  middle,  and  sloping  banks  to  right  and  left — 
all  raised  from  the  path  by  dry-walling  from  one  to  two 
feet  high.  The  joints  of  the  dry-walling  are  planted  with 
small  ferns  on  the  cool  sides,  and  with  stonecrops  and 
other  dwarf  sun-loving  plants  on  the  sides  facing  south/ 
I  will  spare  you  the  Latin  names  of  the  plants  Miss 
Jekyll  mentions.  But  just  listen  to  this ;  '  In  the  joints 
of  the  stones  and  just  below  them  are  little  ferns,  and  in 

10 


146  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

all  vacant  places  tufts  and  sheets  of  mossy  saxifrage, 
coolest  and  freshest-looking  of  Alpine  herbage.'  "  Then 
closing  the  book  with  a  rapt  expression :  "  It  is  bedtime, 
and  I  must  not  keep  you  up  any  longer,  for,  thought 
you  are  not  aware  of  the  fact,  you  have  yawned  twice." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Maggie,  how  dreadfully  rude  of  me ! 
And  I  was  so  interested  too — but  I  really  am  sleepy." 

"  And  I  am  as  wide-awake  as  Tobias  when  he  takes 
his  walks  abroad  to  serenade  Miss  Tabby  over  the  way. 
Maureen,  I  shall  dream  of  that  rock-garden." 

And  Margaret  kept  her  word,  though  she  owned  at 
breakfast-time  that  the  dream  had  not  been  satisfactory, 
as  Giles  had  insisted  on  wheeling  away  the  stones  and 
bricks  which  were  needed  for  the  walk,  and  Thomas, 
who  had  been  ordered  to  cut  down  the  yew,  jeered  at 
her  from  the  top  of  a  tall  ladder,  and  utterly  refused  to 
do  a  stroke  of  work  unless  she  raised  his  wages  there 
and  then.  "  Of  course  I  gave  him  warning  on  the  spot, 
and  then  he  and  Giles  threw  brickbats  at  me,  and  I  awoke 
in  a  fright." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  is  a  good  omen,"  observed 
Maureen,  solemnly,  when  she  had  recovered  from  a  fit 
of  laughing. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  believe  in  omens,"  returned  Margaret, 
cheerfully.  "  I  ought  not  to  have  eaten  that  second 
cheese-cake,  and  the  nightmare  was  a  punishment  for 
greediness.  If  you  are  disposed  to  help  me  this  morning, 
you  had  better  put  on  your  pinafore,  Maureen,  for 
I  have  been  out  already  to  give  the  men  their  orders, 
and  I  expect  they  are  hard  at  work  now." 

"  Aunt  Margaret  can  talk  of  nothing  but  her  new 
rock-garden  from  morning  to  night,"  Maureen  wrote  to 
Irene.  "  We  are  as  dirty  and  happy  as  two  children 
making  mud-pies  in  a  gutter;  and  when  we  strike  work 
in  the  evening  we  ache  all  over.  But  it  is  dreadfully 
interesting,  and  I  actually  coaxed  Thomas  to  let  me  do 
a  bit  of  the  dry-walling.  I  do  so  love  daubing  the 


A  Rock  Garden  147 

bricks  with  mortar  and  sticking  them  together.     As  for 
Aunt  Maggie,  it  is  perfectly  delightful  to  see  her. 

"  The  other  afternoon  Mr.  Torrance  came  in.  He 
wanted  his  tea;  but  while  Lydia  was  getting  it  ready 
he  stood  and  watched  us  with  such  an  amused  expression 
on  his  face. 

'  What  a  woman  you  are,  Margaret ! '  he  said  to 
her.  You  know  they  are  such  old  and  dear  friends  that 
they  often  call  each  other  by  their  Christian  names,  and 
somehow  I  like  to  hear  it.  '  If  you  were  delving  for 
gold  you  could  not  dig  harder.  But  why  on  earth  are 
you  shutting  your  eyes  ?  ' 

" '  I  am  so  afraid  of  cutting  the  poor  worms  in 
halves,'  she  replied,  '  that  I  never  dare  to  look.  But  this 
damp  day  has  given  Giles  the  rheumatism,  and  Thomas 
is  fetching  the  bricks.  But  we  will  leave  off  now, 
Maureen ;  I  am  sure  we  shall  all  be  glad  of  our  tea.'  It 
was  so  exactly  like  Aunt  Margaret  to  say  that.  I  know 
she  fully  hoped  to  have  dug  over  the  whole  bed  in  readi- 
ness for  the  next  day's  work;  but  Mr.  Torrance  was 
tired  from  a  long  walk  and  his  comfort  was  her  first 
consideration.  I  could  easily  have  given  him  his  tea, 
as  I  told  her  afterwards  when  she  was  lamenting  the 
job  was  unfinished.  '  Yes,  I  know,  and  I  would  have 
asked  you  to  do  it,'  was  her  answer, '  but  I  knew  he  would 
enjoy  it  more  if  I  poured  it  out  for  him.'  And  she 
actually  pretended  fo  be  tired,  and  kept  him  longer  than 
usual,  because  she  said  the  rest  would  do  them  both  good. 
And  the  next  morning  she  got  up  at  five  o'clock  to  finish 
the  bed.  That  is  what  I  like  about  Aunt  Margaret's 
friendship  with  Mr.  Torrance;  she  never  seems  to  re- 
member herself  or  her  own  comfort,  if  only  she  can  add 
to  his.  Sometimes  I  wonder  if  he  ever  recognises  this. 
He  is  a  good  man,  and  his  manner  is  always  so  nice  to 
her,  but  even  good  men  are  sometimes  absorbed  in  them- 
selves, and  somehow  I  fancy  that  he  takes  more  than 
he  gives.  Do  you  know  what  I  mean,  dear?"  Aunt 
Margaret  is  one  of  those  who  give  largely  and  expect 


148  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

little  in  return,  but  you  would  never  get  her  to  believe 
this." 

The  work  had  made  good  progress.  By  the  end  of 
the  week  the  steps  were  laid  and  the  dry-walling  finished, 
and  in  a  few  days  the  soil  would  be  ready  for  planting. 
An  order  for  hardy  ferns,  dwarf  rhododendrons,  and 
other  flowering  plants  suitable  for  the  purpose  had 
already  been  despatched  to  the  florist;  and  by  luncheon- 
time  on  Saturday  Margaret  observed  regretfully  that 
there  was  nothing  more  to  be  done  for  the  present. 

"  I  have  given  Walls  and  Co.  plenty  of  time  to  get 
me  all  I  need  by  September,"  she  observed ;  "  for  of 
course  we  must  not  plant  the  rhododendrons  before 
then.  I  have  a  few  ferns  already,  and  Walls  will  get 
me  some  more  soon.  Still,  the  hardest  part  of  the  work 
is  done,  and  I  don't  mind  confessing  that  I  am  pretty 
well  tired.  I  shall  ask  Lydia  to  put  my  bee-hive  chair 
under  the  trees  on  the  tennis  lawn,  and  I  shall  either 
finish  the  novel  I  am  reading  or  have  §.  nap  " ;  and  Mar- 
garet spoke  in  a  tone  of  keen  enjoyment.  "  I  think  you 
had  better  follow  my  example,  Maureen."  But  the  girl 
scouted  this  idea.  She  had  lived  in  the  garden  for  a 
whole  week,  and  her  soul  panted  for  pastures  new. 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  have  a  bicycle  ride,"  she 
replied ;  "  I  never  can  sleep  in  the  daytime."  And  Mar- 
garet was  too  languid  to  argue  the  point. 

"  No  more  adventures !  "  she  said,  in  a  warning  voice ; 
and  Maureen  coloured  up,  though  she  hardly  knew  why. 

"  I  am  only  going  for  a  short  ride,"  she  observed,  in 
an  off-hand  manner,  "  and  I  shall  certainly  be  back  to 
tea."  But  Margaret  only  nodded  in  reply.  She  was 
really  very  tired,  and  for  the  next  hour  her  book  lay 
upside  down  on  her  lap. 

"  I  feel  like  a  very  worn-out  old  woman,"  she  said  to 
herself.  But  she  certainly  did  not  look  like  one,  for 
there  was  something  of  the  unconscious  grace  of  girl- 
hood in  her  attitude  as  she  slumbered  peacefully  in  the 
pleasant  shade. 


A  Rock  Garden  149 

Maureen  enjoyed  her  ride;  the  air  and  exercise  had 
freshened  her  up;  she  had  met  with  no  adventures,  and 
had  given  Marsh  Hall  a  wide  berth.  She  put  up  her 
bicycle  and  went  in  search  of  Margaret.  To  her  surprise 
she  found  her  looking  very  wide-awake  and  rested,  and 
engaged  in  animated  conversation  with  a  visitor.  A 
young  lady  in  white,  with  a  large  Gainsborough  hat, 
was  sitting  very  close  to  her.  Lydia  was  arranging  the 
tea-table. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  Maureen ! "  ex- 
claimed Margaret,  as  the  girl  crossed  the  lawn.  "  I 
want  to  introduce  you  to  Miss  Chaytor."  Then  the 
young  lady  rose  from  her  seat  and  extended  a  daintily- 
gloved  hand  to  Maureen.  There  was  a  shy  eagerness 
in  her  manner. 

"  I  have  heard  of  you,"  she  said,  with  a  pretty  dimp- 
ling smile ;  "  you  are  the  young  lady  whom  Romney 
found  sitting  in  a  ditch  the  other  day  and  brought  home 
in  his  new  motor  car." 

"  Oh,  I  had  scrambled  out  of  the  ditch  long  before 
he  discovered  me,"  returned  Maureen,  laughing.  "  I  was 
only  resting  by  the  roadside,  and  wondering  how  on 
earth  I  was  to  drag  my  bicycle  all  those  miles,  and  then 
your  brother  arrived  in  the  guise  of  a  Good  Samaritan." 

"  Oh  yes,  Romney  gave  me  a  very  amusing  account 
of  the  whole  thing.  It  was  your  first  motor  drive  too. 
Do  you  know,  my  brother  has  been  having  a  delightful 
five  days'  motoring  trip  to  Warwick  and  Stratford-on- 
Avon ;  he  must  have  travelled  at  an  awful  pace  " — and 
Miss  Chaytor  gave  a  little  shudder. 

Maureen  was  watching  her  intently.  She  had  never 
admired  any  one  so  much  at  first  sight  in  her  life. 
Margaret  had  told  her  that  Ruth  Chaytor  was  a  pretty 
little  thing,  but  Maureen  thought  that  she  had  never 
seen  a  more  beautiful  little  face,  and  yet  it  was  of  an 
unusual  type.  Ruth's  colouring  was  dark,  her  smooth 
glossy  hair  looked  almost  black,  and  though  her  eyes  were 
hazel,  the  long  dark  lashes  seemed  to  shadow  and  deepen 


150  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

them.  The  small  face  was  a  pure  oval,  and  the  com- 
plexion that  of  a  brunette.  There  was  something  child- 
like and  appealing  in  her  manner  which  made  her  look 
younger  than  her  age — something  timid  and  yet  eager 
which  reminded  one  of  a  bright-eyed  bird  that  had  lost 
its  way  and  could  not  find  its  nest.  It  was  Margaret 
who  once  said  this. 

The  expensive  simplicity  of  her  dress  filled  Maureen 
with  wonder  and  admiration.  "  I  felt  like  a  little  brown 
earthworm  beside  her  in  my  old  linen  frock,"  remarked 
Maureen  afterwards — "  all  those  tucks  and  embroideries, 
and  the  only  touch  of  colour  that  crimson  rose  peeping 
out  of  the  lace." 

"  I  thought  she  looked  very  sweet,"  returned  Mar- 
garet. "  Ruth  always  wears  white  in  the  summer,  her 
brother  likes  it — chiffon,  muslin,  linen,  serge,  any  or 
every  material.  I  often  tell  her  she  must  spend  a  fortune 
on  her  frocks ;  but  she  says  her  aunt  likes  her  to  dress 
well,  and  as  they  move  in  a  very  smart  set,  and  she  has 
plenty  of  money  at  her  disposal,  one  can  hardly  blame 
her  for  making  herself  pretty." 

Margaret  had  moved  to  the  tea-table  by  this  time, 
and  at  her  invitation  the  two  girls  drew  up  their  chairs. 
Master,  who  had  joyfully  recognised  an  old  acquaintance 
in  Ruth,  sat  bolt  upright  beside  her;  now  and  then  a 
small  ungloved  hand  rested  on  his  head. 

"  How  I  love  this  dear  old  garden ! '  observed  Miss 
Chaytor  presently,  in  rather  a  pensive  tone.  "  I  often 
think  of  it  when  I  am  at  Westcombe  Lodge." 

"  Have  you  told  Miss  Chaytor  about  the  new  rock- 
garden,  Aunt  Maggie  ?  "  asked  Maureen. 

"  To  be  sure  I  have,  and  she  looks  upon  us  both  as 
marvels  of  industry,  though  she  cannot  at  all  under- 
stand the  joys  of  digging  and  dry-walling." 

"  I  am  so  ignorant,  you  see,"  returned  Ruth,  humbly. 
"  I  know  so  little  about  gardening,  though  I  am  very 
fond  of  flowers.  I  never  shall  forget  the  mischief  I 
once  did  when  I  wanted  to  help  Miss  Brydon.  I  pulled 


A  Rock  Garden  151 

up  a  row  of  young  sweet  peas  under  the  impression  they 
were  weeds."  Margaret  laughed,  she  well  remembered 
the  circumstance. 

"  Oh,  you  would  soon  learn,"  she  returned,  cheerfully ; 
"  Maureen  and  I  must  take  you  in  hand.  There  will  be 
plenty  of  time  for  your  horticultural  education,  for  Mr. 
Chaytor  tells  me  that  your  visit  will  be  much  longer  this 
summer." 

"  Yes,  Uncle  George  and  Aunt  Sophy  want  to  get  rid 
of  me,  and  of  course  I  am  only  too  glad  to  be  with 
Romney  " — only  here  Ruth  sighed  and  hesitated. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  your  brother  will  be  pleased  to 
have  you,"  returned  Margaret,  with  a  kind  look  at  the 
girl,  and  Ruth  brightened  up  at  once. 

"  Do  you  think  so — do  you  really  think  so  ? "  in 
rather  an  anxious  tone.  "  He  is  very  kind — he  always 
is — but  I  am  afraid  I  am  spoiling  his  summer  plans.  He 
has  just  got  this  motor,  and  I  know  he  meant  to  go  to 
Westmoreland  and  Yorkshire,  and  now  he  says  he  can- 
not possibly  leave  me  alone  at  Marsh  Hall." 

"  He  might  take  you  with  him,"  suggested  Maureen, 
"  and  how  delightful  that  would  be !  "  But  a  horrified 
expression  crossed  Ruth's  face. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  could  not  possibly  go  with  him,"  she  said 
in  an  alarmed  voice.  "  I  am  a  dreadful  coward,  and 
Romney  is  so  reckless,  he  goes  at  such  a  dreadful  pace; 
I  should  always  be  afraid  of  an  accident,  and  beg  him 
to  go  slower,  and  that  would  annoy  him." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that,  Ruth  ? "  asked  Margaret, 
gently.  "  Mr.  Chaytor  is  not  really  reckless,  and  he  is 
an  exceedingly  careful  driver  Mr.  Torrance  tells  me.  He 
has  been  out  with  him  several  times,  and  he  has  never 
even  run  over  a  chicken.  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  would 
moderate  the  pace  to  suit  you."  But  Ruth  shook  her 
head. 

"  Oh  no,  I  could  not  go — Romney  will  never  ask  me ! 
But  if  he  would  only  leave  me  behind,  I  should  be  quite 


152  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

happy,  and  then  I  should  not  feel  so  dreadfully  in  the 
way." 

"  Leave  you  alone  at  Marsh  Hall ! "  exclaimed 
Maureen,  in  an  astonished  tone. 

"  Yes,  why  not  ?  "  exclaimed  Ruth,  smiling.  "  I  am 
very  fond  of  my  own  company,  and  I  should  not  be 
the  least  dull.  I  have  my  piano;  I  should  practise  and 
sketch  and  read — I  am  very  fond  of  reading.  And  I 
could  ride  and  walk  and  pay  frequent  visits  to  the  Gar- 
den House.  Oh,  the  day  would  not  be  long  enough  for 
all  I  have  to  do ! " 

"  Then  in  that  case  you  had  better  talk  to  your 
brother,  Ruth,"  observed  Margaret.  But  Ruth  only 
sighed  again  in  rather  a  pathetic  way. 

"  I  talked  to  him  last  night,  but  it  was  no  use ;  when 
Romney  has  made  up  his  mind  about  anything,  there 
is  no  moving  him.  He  declared  nothing  on  earth  would 
induce  him  to  leave  me  alone  at  Marsh  Hall ;  that  it  was 
far  too  lonely  and  isolated  for  a  girl  of  my  age,  as  though 
dear  old  Bonnie  would  not  take  care  of  me !  "  finished 
Ruth,  in  rather  an  injured  tone. 


XVII 

THE  VIKING'S  CASTLE 

The  moral  sensibility  which  makes  Edens  and  Tempes  so 
easily  may  not  always  be  found,  but  the  material  landscape  is 
never  far  off.  ...  In  every  landscape  the  point  of  astonish- 
ment is  the  meeting  of  the  sky  and  the  earth,  and  that  is  seen 
from  the  first  hillock,  as  well  as  from  the  top  of  the  Alleghanies. 
There  is  nothing  so  wonderful  in  any  particular  landscape  as 
the  necessity  of  being  beautiful  under  which  every  landscape 
lies. — EMERSON. 

RUTH  CHAYTOR  had  to  hurry  away  after  this.  They 
were  to  dine  earlier  than  usual  that  evening,  she  ex- 
plained, as  her  brother  had  proposed  a  late  ride. 

"  It  is  such  a  lovely  idea,"  she  continued,  enthusi- 
astically ;  "  I  do  so  enjoy  riding  by  moonlight.  If  course 
I  have  brought  Lady  Betty  down  with  me." 

"  Is  Lady  Betty  a  horse?  "  asked  Maureen. 

"  Yes,  and  she  is  such  a  dear  thing,  and  she  and 
Dick  Turpin  are  such  friends.  Now,  Miss  Brydon,  be- 
fore I  go,  you  must  promise  to  fix  some  afternoon  to 
bring  your  niece  to  tea.  On  Monday  Romney  and  I  are 
going  over  to  Chillingford  for  the  day,  but  we  shall 
be  quite  free  on  Tuesday." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  your  brother  will  not  find  us  in 
the  way,  Ruth  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  I  told  him  that  I  was  going  to  ask  you,  and 
he  said  '  All  right '  in  quite  a  comfortable  tone.  So  I 
shall  expect  you  both  for  quite  a  long  afternoon.  Now 
I  must  really  go."  And  Ruth  kissed  Margaret  and  shook 
hands  very  cordially  with  Maureen. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that  little  person  ?  " 
asked  Margaret,  when  the  white  gown  had  vanished 
from  sight.  But  she  put  the  question  smilingly. 

"  Oh,  Aunt   Margaret,   she   is   just   lovely !     I   was 

153 


154  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

admiring  her  so  much  that  I  am  afraid  I  stared  at  her 
quite  rudely.  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  any  one  so  dainty 
and  pretty." 

"  I  saw  that  you  had  lost  your  heart  to  her,"  returned 
Margaret,  in  an  amused  tone.  "  Well,  it  is  a  winsome 
little  face,  though  there  is  something  rather  sad  and 
pathetic  about  it.  But  she  is  a  dear  child,  and  I  am 
very  fond  of  her." 

"  I  should  think  her  brother  must  be  very  proud  of 
her,"  observed  Maureen,  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  Ruth  has  always  been  devoted  to 
him  from  a  child.  Her  aunt  and  uncle  are  extremely 
good  to  her,  and  treat  her  like  one  of  their  own  children, 
but  I  often  fancy  that  she  would  be  happier  at  Marsh 
Hall  with  her  brother.  She  never  likes  going  back  after 
her  holiday,  and  generally  frets  and  mopes  for  the  first 
week.  But  you  would  never  get  Mr.  Chaytor  to  believe 
this." 

"What  makes  you  so  sure  of  that,  Aunt  Maggie?" 

"  Well,  dear,  I  sounded  him  once  when  we  were  hav- 
ing a  friendly  talk  together.  You  may  be  certain  that 
I  said  very  little,  for  I  am  not  without  tact.  But  he 
scorned  the  idea  as  though  it  were  absolutely  absurd. 

"  '  What  on  earth  should  I  do  with  the  child ! '  I 
remember  so  well  his  saying  that.  '  Fancy  burying  that 
bright,  pretty  little  creature  in  mis  lonely  house!  Why, 
she  would  die  of  dulness  in  three  months.' 

" '  I  don't  believe  it,'  was  my  reply.  But  he  would 
not  listen.  You  should  have  seen  the  determined  look 
on  his  face. 

" '  I  may  be  selfish,'  he  went  on,  '  most  men  are, 
but  I  am  not  as  selfish  as  all  that.  Fancy  the  change 
from  Westcombe  Lodge,  full  of  bright,  happy  young 
people,  to  this  grim  old  hermitage!  Mind  you,  it  is 
quite  to  my  taste,  Miss  Brydon,  and  I  am  absolutely  con- 
tent with  my  environment ;  but  it  would  not  do  for  Ruth, 
and  she  would  be  a  great  care  and  responsibility  to  me. 
No,  no,  ske  is  far  better  at  Westcombe  Lodge,  Aunt 


The  Viking's  Castle  155 

Sophy  is  like  a  mother  to  her,  and  she  is  the  spoilt  darl- 
ing of  the  house.'  And  after  this  there  was  nothing 
more  to  be  said." 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  returned  Maureen,  dubiously. 
"  Perhaps,  after  all,  Mr.  Chaytor  is  right,  and  Ruth  is 
happier  where  she  is."  But  Margaret  made  no  reply  to 
this.  And  then  as  it  was  late  they  separated  to  dress 
for  dinner. 

Margaret  smiled  to  herself  more  than  once  that  even- 
ing for  Maureen  could  do  nothing  but  talk  about  Ruth 
Chaytor.  She  asked  so  many  questions  about  her,  and 
seemed  quite  disappointed  that  Margaret  could  not 
always  answer  them.  She  could  not  tell  her  the  names 
or  ages  of  her  cousins.  She  had  seen  Mr.  George 
Chaytor  once,  and  liked  the  look  of  him.  He  had  a 
clever  face,  and  a  good-humoured  twinkle  in  his  eye. 
And — yes,  she  had  also  been  introduced  to  Mrs.  Chaytor 
at  the  Army  and  Navy  Stores.  She  had  quite  forgotten 
it  for  the  moment.  But  they  had  only  exchanged  half- 
a-dozen  words.  She  was  a  plain,  motherly-looking  per- 
son ;  rather  too  smartly  dressed  for  her  taste,  but  not 
a  bad  sort  of  person.  "  Prosperity  was  written  legibly 
on  both  George  Chaytor  and  his  wife,"  she  finished, 
with  a  laugh. 

"  Ruth  is  rich,  too,  is  she  not  ?  "  asked  Maureen. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so ;  she  has  her  mother's  money. 
But  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  ask  me  the  amount  of 
her  fortune,  for  I  have  not  an  idea.  She  has  her  own 
horse  and  maid,  and  dresses  beautifully;  and  since  she 
came  out,  she  has  led  a  gay  society  life.  What,  another 
question  ?  "  with  a  resigned  and  chastened  air. 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  the  last,"  returned  Maureen,  laugh- 
ing ;  "  I  can  see  I  am  boring  you  dreadfully.  I  only 
wanted  to  know  how  old  she  is." 

"  I  think  she  is  between  nineteen  and  twenty,  but  I 
am  not  sure.  But  I  daresay  you  will  soon  find  all  this 
out  for  yourself.  Now  I  am  going  to  read,  and  I  advise 


156  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

you  to  follow  my  example,  and  by  and  by  we  will  have 
a  moonlight  stroll  round  the  garden." 

But  Margaret  did  more  than  this,  for  the  moonlight 
was  so  seductive  that  they  wandered  down  the  road  and 
across  the  Rectory  meadows.  And  just  by  the  Old 
Grey  House  they  came  upon  Mr.  Torrance  standing 
outside  the  garden  door,  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth  and 
Tobias  beside  him. 

He  joined  them  at  once,  and  Tobias,  with  uplifted 
tail,  led  the  way  to  the  Garden  House. 

"  Don't  let  your  pipe  get  cold,  Henry,"  observed 
Margaret;  "  you  know  I  never  object  to  it  out  of  doors." 

"  Oh,  I  have  smoked  enough  for  to-night,"  he  re- 
turned, indifferently.  "  I  prowled  in  the  direction  of  the 
Marsh  just  now,  and  met  Chaytor  and  his  sister.  They 
had  been  having  a  long  ride.  That  pretty  little  mare 
of  Miss  Chaytor's  had  kept  up  capitally  with  Dick 
Turpin.  She  and  her  mistress  are  a  pretty  pair." 

"  I  hope  you  hear  that,  Maureen,"  observed  Mar- 
garet, provokingly.  "  My  niece  has  quite  fallen  in  love 
with  Ruth." 

"  Well,  why  not,"  he  returned,  kindly ;  "  she  is  a 
nice  little  thing,  and  I  wish  she  could  be  more  at  Marsh 
Hall."  And  then  as  they  reached  the  Garden  House 
Maureen  said  she  was  tired  and  went  in ;  but  Margaret 
and  Mr.  Torrance  paced  up  and  down  for  another  quar- 
ter of  an  hour,  followed  by  Master.  Tobias  had  retreated 
to  a  neighbouring  doorstep  and  commenced  washing  his 
black  coat  industriously.  Now  and  then  he  left  off  with 
an  impatient  mew,  as  though  to  remind  his  master  of 
the  lateness  of  the  hour.  But  as  soon  as  the  collie  had 
disappeared  into  the  house  with  Margaret,  Tobias  came 
purring  and  fondling  to  his  master's  side  and  rubbed 
himself  lovingly  against  him. 

"  Time  to  go  in,  is  it,  old  chap  ?  "  observed  Mr.  Tor- 
rance, as  he  refilled  and  relighted  his  meerschaum.  He 
had  no  idea  that  Margaret  was  watching  him  from  an 
upper  window.  Nevertheless,  he  was  thinking  of  her 


The  Viking's  Castle  157 

in  a  friendly,  philosophic  way  as  he  walked  slowly 
towards  the  Old  Grey  House. 

"  What  a  good  sort  she  is !  "  he  said  to  himself. 
"  She  never  disappoints  one.  She  is  the  largest-hearted 
woman  I  ever  knew."  But  it  was  not  of  Margaret  he 
was  thinking  as  he  unlocked  his  garden  door,  for 
Esther's  fair  face  with  its  haunting  beauty  came  ever 
between  them,  and  the  old  dull  ache  and  pain  took  pos- 
session of  him  again  as  he  paced  up  and  down  the  flagged 
path. 

Maureen  was  secretly  much  excited  at  the  prospect 
of  an  afternoon  at  Marsh  Hall.  It  was  not  only  that 
she  longed  to  see  Ruth  Chaytor  again,  but  she  was  also 
full  of  curiosity  and  interest  at  the  idea  of  being  admitted 
into  the  Viking's  Castle,  as  she  always  called  it.  And 
when  Tuesday  came  she  almost  counted  the  hours  until 
it  was  time  to  start.  Margaret  was  amused  at  the  girl's 
restlessnesss,  but  she  took  no  apparent  notice.  Maureen 
was  so  young,  she  thought,  and  enjoyed  everything  so 
intensely. 

"  You  look  very  nice,  dear,"  she  said  approvingly, 
as  they  walked  slowly  towards  the  Marsh  in  the  glowing 
sunshine,  with  Master  following  them.  Ruth  had  ex- 
pressly included  him  in  her  invitation.  Margaret  had 
every  right  to  admire  the  pretty  grey  linen  frock  with  its 
white  embroidery,  as  it  was  her  own  gift,  and  so  was 
the  shady  hat  that  matched  it.  She  had  taken  stock 
of  Maureen's  modest  wardrobe  and  was  adding  to  it 
by  degrees.  "  It  is  my  affair  now,"  she  had  said  quietly 
as  Maureen  thanked  her ;  "  your  mother  has  daughters 
enough  to  dress,  and  you  don't  realise  the  pleasure  it 
will  be  to  me  to  choose  pretty  frocks  for  you." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  can  afford  it,  Aunt  Maggie  ?  " 
But  when  Margaret  had  satisfied  her  on  this  point, 
Maureen  was  quite  content  to  receive  her  good  things, 
for,  like  most  girls,  a  pretty  frock  or  hat  was  a  joy  to 
her. 

"  It  is  not  a  bad  place   in  the   summer,"   observed 


158  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

Margaret,  as  they  walked  up  the  carriage  drive.  "  How 
those  larks  are  singing,  Maureen,  and  there  is  quite  a 
pleasant  breeze  blowing  off  the  Marsh ! "  She  set  a 
deep  bell  ringing  as  she  spoke,  and  a  young  man-ser- 
vant admitted  them  into  an  immense  stone  hall  with 
a  wide  staircase  also  of  stone,  uncarpeted,  and  a  huge 
fireplace  full  of  green  boughs.  An  oak  table  and  settle 
and  an  umbrella-stand  were  the  sole  articles  of  furniture. 
One  or  two  handsome  skins  lay  here  and  there.  To 
Maureen's  surprise  the  man  led  the  way  upstairs. 

"  The  sitting-rooms  are  all  on  the  first  floor,"  whis- 
pered Margaret.  "  Those  doors  only  lead  to  the  ser- 
vants' hall  and  kitchen  offices." 

Maureen,  who  had  been  somewhat  dismayed  at  the 
cold  emptiness  of  the  entrance  hall,  felt  reassured  at  the 
sight  of  a  wide  lobby  with  crimson  carpet,  and  low  book- 
cases on  either  .side,  and  some  handsome  bronze  figures 
with  lamps  in  their  hands.  Some  high  narrow  windows 
gave  plenty  of  light  and  air.  As  the  servant  threw  open 
the  door  of  the  morning-room,  a  very  small  and  beau- 
tiful little  fox  terrier  flew  out  barking  furiously  at 
Master. 

"  Down,  Maisie !  I  think  Miss  Chaytor  is  with  my 
master  in  the  garden,"  observed  the  man.  "  If  you  will 
sit  down  ma'am,  I  will  go  and  see."  But  as  soon  as 
the  door  closed  behind  him  and  the  dog,  Maureen  sprang 
from  her  seat. 

"  What  a  charming  room,  Aunt  Maggie,  but  what 
queer  windows !  "  for  they  were  deeply  set  in  wide  em- 
brasures, which  formed  very  high  window-seats.  To 
facilitate  their  use  a  couple  of  steps  had  been  made. 
Some  soft  cushions,  a  book  or  two,  and  a  small  embroid- 
ery frame  lying  on  the  seat  gave  them  the  impression 
that  Ruth  had  only  recently  left  the  room. 

"  This  is  Ruth's  special  sanctum,"  returned  Mar- 
garet ;  "  it  is  called  the  morning-room.  There  is  no 
drawing-room  at  Marsh  Hall.  Mr.  Oiaytor  lives  in  the 
library,  and  there  is  only  the  dining-room  besides,  and 


The  Viking's  Castle  159 

a  small  smoking-room.  They  are  both  fine  large  rooms, 
and  occupy  the  whole  floor.  The  bedrooms  and  bath- 
rooms— there  are  two — are  above,  and  the  upper  floor 
is  for  the  use  of  the  servants.  Gale  has  a  sitting-room 
of  his  own  on  the  ground  floor." 

"  And  this  is  Ruth's  room,"  observed  Maureen,  softly; 
"  how  delightful  for  her  to  have  such  a  cosy,  pretty 
sitting-room ! "  and  Maureen  silently  noted  the  piano 
and  couch,  and  cabinets  of  books  and  china.  A  few 
beautiful  engravings  in  tasteful  frames  hung  on  the 
walls ;  a  little  French  clock  and  two  charming  statuettes 
of  children  were  on  the  mantelpiece;  a  white  rug  lay 
before  the  fireplace,  and  a  daintily  cushioned  basket 
which  was  evidently  Maisie's  property;  and  plants  and 
flowers  occupied  every  available  space. 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  nice,"  returned  Margaret.  "  Mr. 
Chaytor  refurnished  it  about  two  years  ago,  and  I  think 
he  has  shown  excellent  taste.  It  is  an  ideal  girl's  room." 

"  There  are  one,  two,  three,  no,  four  easy-chairs," 
counted  Maureen,  "  and  all  look  equally  comfortable. 
I  suppose  Mr.  Chaytor  sits  here  sometimes  ?  " 

"  No  I  believe  not ;  I  remember  Ruth  once  told  me 
that  she  never  could  induce  him  to  sit  down  for  a  minute. 
He  lives  entirely  in  the  library.  It  is  a  very  large  room, 
and  there  is  a  grand  piano  in  it,  so  that  she  can  sing 
and  play  to  him  in  the  evening.  But  Mr.  Chaytor  is  a 
good  musician  himself.  I  wonder  why  Ruth  is  keeping 
us  all  this  time.  Marshall  must  have  found  her  long 
ago.  I  shall  tell  her  we  have  come  too  early."  But 
Margaret  had  scarcely  finished  her  sentence  before  Maisie 
bounded  into  the  room,  followed  by  her  young  mistress. 

"Oh,  Miss  Brydon,  will  you  forgive  me?"  she  ex- 
claimed, breathlessly ;  "  but  Marshall  has  only  just  found 
me.  I  was  in  the  garage  with  Romney  and  Gale,  and 
he  thought  I  was  in  the  garden;  it  was  Maisie  who  dis- 
covered me."  And  then  Ruth  took  Maureen's  hand  and 
told  her  how  pleased  she  was  to  see  her. 

To  Maureen's  eyes  Ruth  looked  prettier  than  ever. 


160  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

There  was  a  winning  graciousness  in  her  manner  as 
she  welcomed  her  guests  that  reminded  her  of  a  little 
princess.  She  was  dressed  very  simply  in  a  white  morn- 
ing frock  and  a  sun-hat  trimmed  with  lovely  drooping 
poppies. 

"  We  are  going  to  have  tea  in  the  garden  if  you  do 
not  mind,"  she  went  on,  addressing  Margaret ;  "  Romney 
suggested  it."  Then  turning  to  Maureen ;  "  It  is  not 
much  of  a  garden,  and  I  am  afraid  you  will  think  it  a 
very  dull,  shut-in  little  place  after  your  aunt's  dear  old 
garden,  but  I  am  rather  fond  of  Shady  Nook,  as  I  call 
it.  If  you  care  to  look  out  of  the  window  you  will  see 
it  quite  plainly.  The  window-seat  is  dreadfully  high,  but 
it  is  a  pleasant  place  to  sit  with  one's  book  or  work." 

Maureen  was  ready  to  endorse  this  opinion  as  she 
seated  herself  in  the  cushioned  recess.  The  window 
overlooked  an  archway  with  a  crimson  rambler,  and  a 
small  lawn  surrounded  by  brick  walls  and  narrow 
flower-borders  full  of  bloom.  At  the  end  was  a  group 
of  trees,  between  which  hammocks  were  swinging;  here 
she  could  see  Marshall  setting  out  the  tea-table. 

"  It  is  not  much  of  a  view,  but  I  like  it,"  observed 
Ruth,  who  had  followed  her  to  the  window-seat  "  Rom- 
ney cannot  endure  it  because  he  says  it  is  so  confined ; 
he  much  prefers  the  outlook  from  the  library.  If  you 
like,  I  will  take  you  there." 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  show  Maureen  the  view 
from  the  roof  ? "  asked  Margaret,  and  Ruth  nodded 
delightedly. 

"  Certainly  I  will ;  Marshall  will  not  be  ready  for  us 
for  twenty  minutes,  so  we  shall  have  plenty  of  time.  I 
will  take  you  into  the  library  first." 

And  then  they  crossed  the  lobby,  and  Ruth  presently 
ushered  them  into  a  lofty,  spacious  apartment  with  four 
windows  all  deeply  set  in  embrasures  and  lined  with 
cushions.  One  side  of  the  room  was  filled  by  book- 
cases, which  reached  from  floor  to  ceiling;  on  the  other 
there  was  a  grand  piano,  a  music  cabinet,  and  a  well- 


The  Viking's  Castle  161 

used  writing-table.  The  centre  of  the  room  was  occu- 
pied by  a  round  table  with  a  reading-lamp  on  it,  and 
easy-chairs  and  couch ;  one  or  two  fine  proof  engravings 
filled  up  vacant  spaces,  and  books,  magazines,  and  papers 
were  strewn  on  window-seats  and  chairs. 

Ruth  shook  her  head  as  she  saw  them.  "  Oh,  the 
untidy  boy;  I  must  tell  Gale  to  make  a  clearance  to- 
morrow. Gale  is  the  only  person  who  is  allowed  to  lay 
a  finger  on  anything;  I  believe  poor  Wingate,  the  house- 
maid, hardly  dares  even  to  dust  them;  but  Gale  will 
put  things  to  rights  before  Romney  is  up.  Look  at  the 
view.  Is  not  the  Marsh  lovely  in  the  sunshine?  From 
that  window  you  can  get  a  glimpse  of  the  sea,  but'  we 
shall  have  a  still  wider  view  from  the  roof."  And  then 
again  she  led  the  way,  and  Maureen,  with  a  lingering 
look  at  the  beautiful  room,  followed  her. 

They  went  up  another  flight  of  stairs  with  hand- 
some crimson  carpet,  and  down  another  lobby  with  bed- 
rooms and  bathrooms  on  either  side,  up  a  narrower  flight, 
then  opening  a  massive  door,  they  ascended  a  sort  of 
ladder  which  led  to  the  roof.  Here  there  was  a  heavy 
door  which  Ruth  opened  with  difficulty. 

"  Welcome  to  Windy-How ! "  she  exclaimed  gaily,  as 
they  stepped  on  to  the  flat  stone  surface  surrounded  by 
massive  parapets. 

Maureen  almost  held  her  breath  with  surprise  and 
delight.  She  had  never  seen  such  a  sight  before.  The 
roof  was  perfectly  flat  in  this  part,  and  in  one  corner 
was  a  stone  cabin  with  a  roughly  hewn  seat,  and  all 
around,  below  them,  lay  the  Marsh  and  dyke  lands, 
fringed  to  seaward  by  banks  of  shingle  and  blown  sand. 
On  one  side  the  great  shingle  bank,  which  formed  a 
natural  sea-wall,  was  plainly  visible,  and  the  dim  blue 
line  beyond  was  the  open  sea. 

In  the  sunshine  of  the  summer  afternoon  the  open 
expanse  was  supremely  peaceful  and  beautiful;  the 
Watteau-like  group  of  cattle  near  the  Marsh  Farm;  the 
countless  flocks  of  feeding  sheep  scattered  over  the  wide 

11 


162  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

pastures ;  the  larks  rising  and  falling  in  their  swift  flight ; 
the  fresh  salt  breeze  blowing  in  their  faces. 

"  Well,  Maureen,  what  do  you  think  of  Windy-How, 
as  Ruth  calls  it?"  asked  Margaret,  with  a  glance  at  the 
girl's  abstracted  face.  But  Maureen  was  too  much  ab- 
sorbed to  answer.  She  was  trying  to  picture  it  on  win- 
ter nights,  when  the  dyke  land  was  black  and  the  stars 
were  shining,  and  the  air-maniac,  as  they  called  him,  old 
Roger  Chaytor,  sat  in  his  stone  cabin  with  the  winds  of 
heaven  blowing  his  white  beard,  while  the  world  was 
asleep  below  him  and  his  wild  soul  held  revel  with  the 
mighty  forces  of  nature. 


XVIII 

MAUREEN  RECEIVES  AN  INVITATION 

Be  yourself,  simple,  honest,  and  unpretending,  and  you  will 
enjoy  through  life  the  respect  and  love  of  friends. — SHERMAN. 

Time  is  infinitely  long,  and  every  day  is  a  vessel  into  which 
much  may  be  poured  if  we  fill  it  up  to  the  brim. — GOETHE. 

IT  was  rather  difficult  to  induce  Maureen  to  leave 
Windy-How,  but  as  Ruth  seemed  anxious  not  to  keep 
her  brother  waiting,  she  reluctantly  tore  herself  away. 

"  You  must  bring  me  up  here  again,"  she  said,  as 
they  went  down  the  stone  staircase.  And  Ruth  nodded 
as  she  linked  her  arm  in  Maureen's  in  the  friendliest 
way. 

"  You  shall  come  as  often  as  you  like,  dear.  We 
will  spend  a  whole  afternoon  in  the  cabin  if  you  please. 
Romney  seldom  goes  up  there,  the  stairs  try  him  so  much. 
But  one  starlight  evening  he  took  me  up  with  him,  and 
Gale  was  there  too,  and  we  spent  a  wonderful  hour — 
the  stars  seemed  so  much  nearer,  somehow." 

"  You  would  have  liked  to  have  been  there,  too, 
would  you  not,  Maureen  ?  "  observed  Margaret,  and  the 
girl  smiled  assent. 

"  It  was  really  very  interesting,"  returned  Ruth, 
dreamily.  She  had  taken  off  her  hat,  and  it  looked  like 
a  basket  of  poppies  swinging  on  her  arm;  and  her 
beautiful  little  head  was  as  glossy  and  sleek  as  a  bird's 
wing  in  the  sunlight.  "  Romney  had  been  studying 
astronomy,  and  he  and  Gale  talked  so  cleverly.  Gale  is 
a  most  intelligent  person.  Romney  talks  of  buying  a 
telescope  and  turning  one  of  the  empty  rooms  on  the 
top  floor  into  an  observatory.  But  he  thinks  he  cannot 
afford  it  this  year — he  paid  so  much  for  his  motor." 

"Your  brother  seems  to  have  plenty  of  resources, 

163 


164  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

Ruth.  What  with  farming,  motoring,  riding,  and  study- 
ing agriculture,  astronomy,  and  German  philosophy,  his 
time  must  be  fully  occupied."  Margaret  spoke  in  an 
approving  tone  for  an  idle  man  was  her  pet  aversion. 

"  You  forget  Romney's  love  of  music,  dear  Miss 
Brydon,"  returned  Ruth,  eagerly.  "  When  he  is  in  the 
mood  he  will  spend  hours  at  the  piano.  There  is  noth- 
ing I  like  better  than  to  curl  myself  up  on  the  window- 
seat  and  listen  to  him.  He  will  play  one  thing  after 
another,  and  sometimes  he  will  extemporise — I  like  that 
best  of  all;  and  often  he  has  forgotten  I  was  there,  and 
has  quite  started  when  I  spoke  to  him  suddenly  and 
reminded  him  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour." 

They  were  passing  under  the  rose  arch  as  Ruth  said 
this,  and  into  the  little  walled  garden  with  its  velvety 
lawn  and  gay  flower-borders.  The  walls  were  high 
but  the  trees  overtopped  them,  and  there  was  quite  a 
pleasant  shade  to  be  found  under  them  on  the  most  sultry 
summer's  day.  The  red  and  white  striped  hammocks, 
the  comfortable  wicker  chairs,  and  the  dainty  little  tea- 
table,  looked  very  cosy  and  inviting  to  Maureen's  eyes. 
Mr.  Chaytor,  who  was  standing  to  receive  them,  wel- 
comed them  with  no  lack  of  cordiality.  He  was  evi- 
dently on  excellent  terms  with  Margaret.  Ruth  told 
Maureen  afterwards  there  was  no  one  whom  he  more 
liked  or  respected. 

"  So  you  have  been  up  on  the  housetop,"  he  observed 
to  Maureen.  "  Can  you  imagine  my  grandfather  keep- 
ing tryst  with  the  stars  on  winter  nights?  They  called 
him  the  air-maniac,  and  he  was  certainly  a  bit  of  a 
crank." 

"  I  should  love  to  be  up  there  at  night,"  returned 
Maureen.  There  was  a  glow  on  the  little  brown  face  as 
she  spoke,  and  her  white  teeth  gleamed  in  a  frank  smile. 
Margaret  thought  she  had  never  seen  her  look  to  more 
advantage. 

"  Maureen  is  not  pretty,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  but 
she  lights  up  so  wonderfully  and  has  so  much  expression. 


Maureen  Receives  an  Invitation         165 

Now  Ruth  is  a  thorough  little  beauty,  there  is  no  deny- 
ing that;  but  yet  Maureen's  face  pleases  me  more." 

Romney  Charter  looked  at  the  girl  a  little  curiously 
as  she  said  this,  but  he  took  no  apparent  notice  of  her 
remark.  During  tea-time  his  conversation  was  chiefly 
directed  to  Margaret,  and  the  two  girls  talked  to  each 
other;  they  were  evidently  mutually  attracted,  and  their 
intimacy  made  great  strides.  Ruth  informed  Maureen 
that  they  were  sure  of  meeting  again  three  days  later, 
as  she  had  been  invited  to  both  the  Rectory  and  Gayton 
Lodge  for  tennis.  "  Jenny  tells  me  that  you  have  prom- 
ised to  go  on  Saturday." 

"  Oh  yes,"  returned  Maureen,  delightedly.  "  And 
Mrs.  Whitworth  has  asked  us  for  Friday.  We  are  to 
have  tea  in  the  garden,  and  play  croquet  as  the  rector 
will  be  a\vay.  The  dear  old  thing  is  so  fond  of  the 
game,  but  Mr.  Whitworth  only  likes  tennis.  There  is 
no  one  else  asked — just  you  and  me  and  Aunt  Margaret." 

"  Romney  is  going  away  for  the  week-end,"  returned 
Ruth,  "  so  he  is  quite  glad  that  I  have  those  two  invi- 
tations. Very  likely  he  will  not  be  back  until  Tuesday 
morning." 

"  Then  I  shall  ask  Aunt  Margaret  to  invite  you  to 
spend  Sunday  with  us."  Maureen  spoke  so  clearly  that 
Margaret  heard  her  name,  and  insisted  on  knowing  the 
subject  of  their  conversation. 

"  Of  course  you  must  spend  the  day  with  us,  Ruth," 
she  said,  in  her  pleasant,  hearty  way.  "  The  weather  is 
so  warm  just  now,  unusually  so  for  June,  and  it  will 
save  you  a  long  hot  walk  to  and  from  church.  You  can 
come  to  us  quite  early — to  breakfast,  if  you  like — and 
we  will  walk  back  with  you  after  supper." 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  propose  an  amendment  ? " 
suggested  Mr.  Chaytor.  "  My  sister  will  be  alone,  and 
it  would  be  a  great  boon  to  both  of  us  if  your  niece 
would  stay  with  her  for  those  two  nights.  You  would 
like  that,  would  you  not,  my  dear  ?  "  and  there  was  some- 


166  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

thing  fatherly  in  his  tone  as  he  addressed  his  young 
sister. 

To  his  surprise  Ruth  hesitated  a  moment.  "  I  should 
love  it — you  know  I  should  love  it,  Romney — and  it 

would  be  a  delightful  arrangement — only — only " 

here  Ruth  faltered  and  looked  at  him  wistfully. 

"  Only  what  ?  Speak  up,  little  woman,"  with  a  trace 
of  impatience  in  his  tone. 

"  Only  I  do  so  want  you  to  understand  " — and  Ruth 
spoke  quite  pathetically — "  that  I  never  mind  your  leav- 
ing me  alone,  and  that  I  am  never  dull,  and  the  time 
never  seems  long.  It  would  make  me  so  much  happier 
if  you  would  only  believe  this,  Romney." 

"  Well,  well,  I  think  we  have  talked  this  over  before, 
my  dear,  and  I  have  told  you  my  mind  pretty  plainly," 
and  Mr.  Chaytor's  manner  was  a  little  abrupt.  "  I  am 
afraid  Miss  Brydon,"  with  a  glance  at  Maureen,  "  will 
think  you  are  not  anxious  for  her  company." 

"  Oh,  no,  she  will  never  think  anything  so  unkind !  " 
and  Ruth  struggled  hard  with  some  passing  emotion, 
and  tried  to  be  her  winsome  self  again.  "  You  will 
come  back  with  me  on  Sunday  evening,  will  you  not, 
dear?  And  if  you  like  we  will  spend  the  whole  of  the 
next  day  in  Shady  Nook  and  Windy-How ;  and  perhaps 
in  the  evening  we  could  have  a  long  bicycle  ride." 

"  Oh,  how  delightful !  Will  you  spare  me,  Aunt 
Maggie?"  And  Margaret  nodded.  She  was  well 
pleased  by  this  neighbourly  attention  on  Mr.  Chaytor's 
part;  it  showed  that  he  approved  of  Maureen  as  a  com- 
panion for  his  sister.  To  the  best  of  her  knowledge  none 
of  the  Brant  girls  had  ever  been  invited  to  Marsh  Hall, 
though  Mrs.  Brant  and  Hermione  had  once  had  tea 
there  when  they  called.  She  questioned  Ruth  on  the 
subject  afterwards. 

"  Oh  no,"  she  said  frankly ;  "  Romney  does  not  care 
for  the  Brants;  he  thinks  them  loud  and  boisterous,  and 
he  quite  dislikes  Thora.  I  asked  him  once  if  I  could 
not  invite  them,  as  they  showed  me  so  much  attention; 


Maureen  Receives  an  Invitation         167 

but  I  saw  the  idea  did  not  please  him,  though  he  never 
objects  to  my  going  there — he  could  not  very  well,  as 
General  Brant  was  my  god-father." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  always  forget  that,"  returned  Margaret. 
"  Maureen  ought  to  consider  herself  highly  honoured, 
for  Mr.  Chaytor  invited  her  without  any  prompting  on 
your  part." 

"  Yes ;  I  never  was  more  surprised,"  returned  Ruth, 
naively.  "  But  then  she  is  your  niece,  dear  Miss  Brydon, 
and  we  all  know  what  a  favourite  you  are.  Still,  I  am 
sure  that  Romney  must  have  approved  of  her  or  he 
would  never  have  suggested  a  visit  to  Marsh  Hall.  I 
remember  he  said  that  she  was  a  nice,  genuine  sort 
of  girl,  when  he  told  me  about  her  adventure."  But 
Ruth  prudently  refrained  from  repeating  the  remainder 
of  his  speech :  "  She  is  a  regular  little  brown  Jenny 
Wren — only  her  white  teeth  and  smile  are  rather  fetch- 
ing." No,  Ruth  properly  kept  this  to  herself.  Neither 
did  she  offer  another  piece  of  information  gratuitously: 
that  Romney  had  teased  her  more  than  once  by  speaking 
of  her  new  friend  as  "  Jenny  Wren." 

After  tea  Ruth  carried  Maureen  off  to  the  house  to 
see  her  bedroom  and  some  of  her  treasures,  and  then 
she  insisted  on  Maureen  choosing  which  room  she  would 
prefer  to  occupy.  There  were  three  spare  rooms,  all 
kept  aired  and  ready  for  use,  though  few  visitors  ever 
tenanted  them. 

"  Charles  and  Rudolf  used  to  come  now  and  then 
for  a  night  or  two,"  continued  Ruth.  "  They  are  my 
eldest  cousins;  but  since  their  marriage  they  have  never 
stayed  here.  Romney  does  not  care  for  their  wives. 
They  married  sisters.  Besides,  he  does  not  like  lady 
visitors,  and  Millie  and  Elise  are  too  gay  and  managing 
to  suit  him." 

Maureen  was  not  long  in  making  her  choice,  and 
she  very  soon  declared  her  preference  for  a  small,  sim- 
ply-furnished room  just  opposite  Ruth's.  And  when 
this  matter  was  settled,  and  they  had  inspected  Ruth's 


168  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

pictures  and  nick-nacks,  they  went  back  to  the  garden, 
where  Margaret  and  Mr.  Chaytor  seemed  engaged  in 
earnest  talk.  Neither  of  them  heard  the  girls'  light 
footsteps  over  the  grass ;  and  so  it  was  that  some  words 
of  Mr.  Chaytor's  reached  Maureen's  ears. 

"  You  are  certainly  right,  and  I  see  you  understand 
him  better  than  most  people.  He  is  not  a  person  to 
talk  of  his  feelings  even  to  his  closest  friends,  but  at 
least  he  is  the  saddest  man  I  know ;  sometimes  his  silence 
makes  me  quite  ache  with  sympathy." 

"  Oh,  I  know  just  what  you  mean,"  returned  Mar- 
garet, in  a  moved  tone.  And  then  they  became  aware 
of  the  girls'  presence,  and  she  checked  herself  rather 
abruptly. 

Were  they  speaking  of  Mr.  Torrance,  Maureen  won- 
dered; but  she  need  not  have  asked  the  question,  for 
Henry  Torrance's  most  intimate  and  trusted  friends  were 
Margaret  Brydon  and  Romney  Chaytor,  and  probably 
this  knowledge  was  a  bond  of  union  between  them. 

"  I  was  beginning  to  think  you  were  lost,  Maureen," 
observed  Margaret,  but  her  cheerful  tone  was  a  little 
forced.  "  Are  you  aware  it  is  nearly  six,  and  we  have 
outstayed  our  welcome  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  endorse  that,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Chaytor, 
pleasantly ;  "  the  afternoon  has  certainly  not  seemed  long 
to  me."  And  then  he  shook  hands,  but  did  not  attempt 
to  walk  towards  the  gate  with  them.  As  Maureen 
passed  through  the  arch  she  glanced  back.  He  was  still 
standing,  and  his  hat  was  in  his  hand.  What  a  grand 
figure  of  a  man  he  looked,  with  his  massive  shoulders 
and  strong,  weather-beaten  face.  Then  she  quickly 
averted  her  eyes,  as  though  something  pained  her.  He 
had  moved.  There  was  the  old  awkward  lurch  which 
she  had  never  forgotten ;  and  the  harmony  of  the  picture 
was  broken. 

Maureen  was  so  quiet  for  the  first  half-mile  that 
Margaret  thought  her  afternoon  had  disappointed  her, 
but  she  was  soon  undeceived.  Maureen  had  enjoyed 


Maureen  Receives  an  Invitation         169 

every  moment,   and  was  looking  forward  with  delight 
to  her  proposed  visit. 

"  It  was  so  kind  of  Mr.  Chaytor  to  ask  me,"  she 
went  on.  "  I  thought  Ruth  seemed  quite  taken  aback 
for  the  minute,  but  she  explained  it  to  me  afterwards. 
She  could  not  help  being  a  little  bit  surprised,  as  he 
has  never  asked  any  one  before. 

'  It  was  sweet  of  him  to  think  of  it,'  she  went  on ; 
'  but  if  I  could  only  make  the  dear  old  fellow  believe  that 
I  should  not  be  dull  alone,'  and  then  she  sighed  in  quite 
an  oppressed  way." 

"  Yes,  that  is  Ruth's  sore  point ;  but  she  can  make 
no  impression  on  him.  But  I  am  thankful  to  see  that 
Mr.  Chaytor  shows  some  inclination  to  creep  out  of 
his  shell.  He  was  at  the  Rectory  last  night.  Mr.  Tor- 
ranee  was  there  too,  and  Mrs.  Whitworth  wanted 
Ruth  to  go,  but  she  was  too  tired  with  her  long  day  at 
Chillingford." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  ask  him  to  the  Garden  House, 
Aunt  Margaret  ?  " 

"  I  shall  not  put  myself  out  of  the  way  to  do  so.  I 
have  invited  him  more  than  once,  and  he  has  always 
excused  himself;  so  I  shall  leave  him  to  come  round 
of  his  own  accord.  By  the  bye,  he  scarcely  spoke  to 
you  this  afternoon,  Maureen." 

"  That  is  because  you  were  there,  Aunt  Maggie," 
returned  Maureen,  archly,  for  she  would  not  allow  even 
to  herself  that  she  had  been  just  a  little  bit  hurt  at  his 
seeming  neglect.  "  And  it  was  my  first  visit,  too,"  she 
thought ;  and  then  her  usual  humility  and  good  sense 
put  the  matter  in  a  clearer  light. 

"  He  did  not  mean  to  neglect  me,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  He  looked  very  kindly  at  me  once  or  twice.  But  of 
course  he  found  Aunt  Margaret  so  much  more  inter- 
esting, and  she  looked  such  a  dear  this  afternoon." 
Maureen  was  in  an  unusually  self-deprecating  mood  that 
evening,  for,  as  she  smoothed  her  hair  at  the  glass,  she 
continued  thoughtfully :  "  It  is  all  very  well  for  father 


170  iThe  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

and  Harold  to  make  much  of  me,  for  they  are  so  used 
to  me  by  this  time,  and  one  must  be  fond  of  one's  be- 
longings; but  it  is  not  likely  that  a  grand,  clever  man 
like  Mr.  Chaytor  should  take  notice  of  such  a  homely 
little  brown  thing";  and  Maureen  shook  her  head  at 
her  reflection. 

They  went  to  the  Rectory  the  following  afternoon, 
and  found  Ruth  playing  croquet  with  Mrs.  Whitworth; 
and  on  Saturday  Maureen  went  alone  to  Gayton  Lodge, 
and  was  surprised  to  find  several  people  there.  The 
Brants  were  famous  for  getting  up  impromptu  parties — 
"  surprise  parties,"  they  called  them ;  but  they  did  not 
always  give  satisfaction  to  other  people.  Ruth,  who  wore 
her  white  morning  dress  and  poppy  hat,  took  advantage 
of  a  change  of  partners  to  whisper  rather  discontentedly 
to  Maureen : 

"  It  is  just  like  the  Brant  girls,  asking  all  these 
strangers  and  never  giving  one  a  hint.  I  never  even 
troubled  to  change  my  frock. 

'  We  want  you  and  Maureen  Brydon  to  run  in  on 
Saturday,  and  we  will  practise  for  the  next  tennis  tourna- 
ment ' — that  is  what  Jenny  said  to  me.  Just  look  at  all 
those  smart  people,"  and  Ruth  waved  her  racquet  with 
a  petulant  baby  frown,  and  then  went  back  to  her  game 
without  hearing  Maureen's  soothing  remark: 

"  What  does  it  matter,  dear  ?  You  always  look  so 
nice  " — which  was  certainly  the  truth. 

That  afternoon  Ruth  had  no  lack  of  partners,  and 
even  when  she  said  she  was  tired,  and  moved  away  to 
rest  herself  in  a  shady  nook,  she  was  not  left  in  solitude, 
for  half  the  young  men  on  the  ground  were  in  attend- 
ance to  wait  on  her  and  bask  in  the  light  of  her  bright 
eyes. 

"Awfully  fetching,  isn't  she?"  observed  one  under- 
graduate to  Maureen.  "  Made  quite  a  sensation  last  sea- 
son, my  cousin  tell  me,"  for  he  was  one  of  the  General's 
numberless  nephews.  "  I  hear  Lipscombe  of  Oriel  is 
quite  gone  on  her.  He  has  a  fancy  for  dark  beauties." 


Maureen  Receives  an  Invitation        171 

And  so  the  ingenious  youth  prattled  on,  to  Maureen's 
secret  amusement. 

"  I  think  your  friend  has  very  good  taste,"  she  said 
demurely.  "  Now,  as  I  am  rested,  shall  we  go  on  with 
our  game  ?  " 

"  What  did  you  say  that  girl's  name  was,  Hermione  ?  " 
asked  Teddy  Brant  rather  curiously,  when  the  game  was 
finished.  Then,  as  his  cousin  enlightened  him — "  Well, 
she  is  a  good  sort ;  plenty  of  go  about  her  and  no  hum- 
bug ;  never  got  in  my  way  or  took  my  ball."  And  Teddy 
marched  down  the  avenue  with  his  cricket  cap  at  the 
back  of  his  head,  whistling  in  his  light-hearted,  boyish 
way. 

"  So  it  was  a  regular  tennis-party  after  all ! "  ob- 
served Margaret,  in  sympathetic  indignation.  "  Now,  I 
call  that  too  bad  of  Hermione  and  Jenny.  But  never 
mind,  Maureen,  that  grey  linen  was  just  the  right  thing." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  was  not  thinking  of  my  appearance,  but 
Ruth  seemed  a  little  put  out  about  it;  she  need  not 
have  troubled  herself,  for  all  the  men  were  crowding 
round  her.  Young  Mr.  Brant — cousin  Teddy,  as  they 
call  him;  he  is  such  a  nice  boy,  Aunt  Maggie — told 
me  that  she  made  quite  a  sensation  last  season.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  a  Mr.  Lipscombe  ?  "  Margaret  nodded. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Whitworth  told  me  about  him.  I  believe 
he  made  Ruth  an  offer  and  she  refused  him.  They  are 
very  wealthy  people — his  father  made  his  fortune  as  an 
oil  merchant  and  then  entered  Parliament." 

"  Is  the  son  nice  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  is  a  strong,  bull-headed  young  man,  with 
a  rather  red  face.  But  I  believe  he  is  a  good-natured 
fellow,  though  not  endowed  with  much  brains.  But 
Ruth  could  not  be  induced  to  listen  to  him." 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  who  would  be  good  enough 
for  her,"  returned  Maureen,  and  she  spoke  with  earnest 
sincerity.  But  she  had  no  idea  why  Margaret  suddenly 
gave  her  a  kiss. 


172  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Dear  little  soul,"  she  said  to  herself,  when  Maureen 
had  left  the  room,  "  I  don't  believe  she  has  a  spark  of 
envy  in  her  nature ;  she  is  always  making  much  of  other 
people  and  little  of  herself.  But  I  don't  believe  she  has 
an  idea  how  fond  I  am  of  her."  And  Margaret  smiled 
happily  as  she  took  up  her  work. 


XIX 

"I  WANT  YOU  TO  UNDERSTAND" 

Let  no  misfortune  ever  master  thee ; 

For  only  strong  endurance  leads  thee  to 

The  day  of  bliss.     Whate'er  can 

Chance  to  man,  that  he  has  strength  to  meet; 

What   he   has   strength    for, 

That  it  behooveth  him  to  bear, 

Dear  Soul. 

A  Layman's  Breviary. 

RUTH  walked  over  to  St.  Cyprian  for  the  early  service 
the  next  morning;  when  Maureen  entered  the  church 
she  saw  her  in  the  Chaytors'  pew.  When  the  service 
had  ended  the  two  girls  walked  back  to  the  Garden 
House.  Ruth  would  have  waited  in  the  porch  for  Mar- 
garet, but  Maureen  told  her  that  she  would  follow  as 
soon  as  she  was  ready. 

"  I  never  wait  for  her,"  she  observed  as  they  crossed 
the  Rectory  meadow.  "  I  know  all  her  ways  by  this  time. 
When  one  is  no  longer  young,  one  makes  little  rules  for 
one's  self.  I  seldom  even  bid  her  good-morning  until 
we  meet  at  breakfast." 

Ruth  sighed.  "  If  only  one  could  be  as  good  as  Miss 
Dry  don.  Somehow  Sundays  here  seem  so  different  to 
those  at  Westcombe  Lodge.  There  is  plenty  of  church- 
going — even  the  boys  dare  not  stay  away,  Uncle  George 
is  so  particular — but  they  make  up  for  it  during  the  rest 
of  the  day.  Olivia  and  Gwendoline  have  their  friends 
in  the  afternoon,  and  Percy  and  Tony  have  theirs,  and 
sometimes  it  is  as  noisy  as  possible." 

"  I  should  not  care  for  that,"  returned  Maureen, 
thoughtfully.  "  Our  Sundays  at  the  Homestead  were 
never  dull ;  in  the  summer  there  was  the  garden,  and 
in  winter  father  liked  us  to  walk  with  him,  and  we  always 

173 


174.  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

went  to  the  evening  service;  and  after  tea  father  gen- 
erally asked  us  to  play  and  sing  to  him.  Somehow  the 
day  never  seemed  long " ;  and  Maureen's  voice  was  a 
little  sad,  for  she  still  had  her  moments  of  home-sickness. 

They  spent  the  afternoon  in  the  garden.  As  usual 
Margaret  dozed  over  her  book,  and  the  girls  chatted  to 
each  other  in  low  tones.  Margaret  assured  them  after- 
wards that  their  voices  had  lulled  her  into  a  dream. 
"  There  was  a  pleasant  buzzing  in  my  ears,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  I  have  not  an  idea  what  you  were  talking 
about,  but  I  feel  very  much  refreshed  and  rested  by 
my  nap." 

"  You  have  not  read  much,"  observed  Maureen,  slyly, 
as  she  picked  up  the  book  which  had  fallen  from  Mar- 
garet's lap,  and  was  lying  face  downwards  on  the  grass ; 
"  I  never  saw  you  turn  a  page."  But  Margaret  took 
this  remark  calmly. 

"  Some  pages  do  not  need  turning,"  she  said,  sen- 
tentiously ;  "  a  sentence  or  two  well  digested  is  often 
sufficient  nourishment  for  a  well-regulated  mind."  And 
as  Maureen  laughed,  she  continued  in  a  satisfied  tone; 
"  At  least  I  have  not  wasted  my  time,  for  wholesome 
rest  is  better  than  frothy  talk  and  gossip."  And  then 
Margaret,  with  an  air  of  great  briskness,  summoned 
her  young  companions  to  the  tea-table. 

After  supper  Margaret  kept  her  promise  of  walking 
over  with  them  to  Marsh  Hall,  and  it  was  quite  late 
when  she  and  her  faithful  satellite  Master  retraced  their 
steps. 

The  girls  stood  on  the  little  drawbridge  watching 
until  she  was  out  of  sight. 

"  I  hope  the  dear  thing  will  not  be  dull  without  you," 
observed  Ruth,  as  they  walked  up  the  drive.  But 
Maureen  shook  her  head. 

"  Aunt  Margaret  is  never  dull ;  I  don't  believe  she 
knows  how  to  spell  the  word.  It  is  my  belief  that  she 
has  bottled  up  so  much  heart  sunshine  that  she  has 


''I  Want  You  to  Understand"         175 

always  plenty  for  dark  days;  she  is  one  of  the  most 
cheerful  and  self-sacrificing  people  I  know." 

Maureen  was  so  excited  by  finding  herself  really 
inside  the  Viking's  Castle  that  she  could  hardly  sleep 
that  night.  She  amused  herself  by  writing  imaginary 
pages  of  description  to  Harold.  "  He  shall  certainly 
have  my  next  letter,"  she  said  to  herself  rather  drowsily, 
and  then  she  fell  asleep  and  had  curious  oddments  of 
dreams,  in  which  the  air-maniac,  old  Roger  Chaytor, 
and  his  grandson  Romney  seemed  strangely  blended 
together.  Maureen  heard  herself  assuring  him  gravely 
that  she  had  no  idea  that  his  beard  was  white.  "  You 
are  far  too  young  for  anything  so  patriarchal,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  and  in  my  opinion  it  is  extremely  unbecoming 
and  inconvenient." 

"  Who  cares  what  a  little  brown  thing  like  you 
thinks  ? "  was  the  uncivil  answer,  and  Mr.  Chaytor 
laughed  in  a  jeering  manner.  And  then  the  wind  began 
to  blow,  and  the  walls  rocked,  and  Maureen  cried  out, 
and  woke  to  find  the  sun  shining  in  at  her  window  and 
the  soft  morning  breeze  fanning  her  temples. 

As  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  the  two  girls  estab- 
lished themselves  cosily  in  the  little  stone  cabin  in  Windy- 
How  with  their  work.  And  Maisie  curled  herself  up 
on  her  mistress's  lap. 

"  I  wonder  why  your  brother  does  not  have  a  dog," 
observed  Maureen,  as  she  stroked  the  white  satin-like 
coat  of  the  little  fox-terrier ;  "  he  seems  so  fond  of  ani- 
mals, and  it  would  be  such  a  companion  for  him." 

"  He  could  never  bring  himself  to  replace  poor  old 
Jack,"  returned  Ruth,  in  a  low  voice.  "  They  were 
inseparable,  and  Romney  never  went  anywhere  without 
him.  Jack  was  a  great  brindled  bulldog.  I  always 
thought  him  dreadfully  ugly,  but  he  had  such  a  pedigree, 
and  Romney  considered  him  perfect.  He  was  certainly 
very  human,  and  seemed  only  to  live  for  his  master. 
He  took  cold  one  wet  day,  and  it  developed  into  pneu- 
monia, and  in  spite  of  all  his  doctor's  care,  poor  Jack 


176  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

grew  rapidly  worse.  Romney  never  left  him  the  night 
he  died,  and  I  believe  he  grieved  as  much  for  him  as 
if  he  had  lost  a  human  friend.  That  is  just  like  Romney ; 
he  never  likes  people  in  a  half-hearted  way.  He  is  very 
tenacious  in  his  attachments,  though  one  cannot  deny 
that  he  cares  for  few  people.  I  have  heard  him  say 
more  than  once,  that  he  has  only  three  friends  in  Branks- 
mere — Mr.  Torrance,  the  rector,  and  Miss  Brydon." 

Maureen  was  a  little  silent  after  this.  Then  she 
roused  herself  to  ask  where  Jack  was  buried.  And 
after  luncheon  Ruth  took  her  to  see  the  place.  There 
was  a  regular  tombstone  with  Jack's  name  engraved 
on  it,  and  under  it  the  words :  "  Here  lies  the  most 
faithful  of  friends." 

It  was  while  they  sat  side  by  side  in  the  little  stone 
cabin  that  Maureen  questioned  Ruth  about  her  life  at 
Westcombe  Lodge.  "  It  is  not  curiosity,"  she  said,  quite 
earnestly ;  "  but  I  feel  so  interested  in  all  that  concerns 
you,  and  I  should  dearly  like  to  hear  anything  you  like 
to  tell  me  about  your  cousins  and  your  daily  life.  I 
asked  Aunt  Margaret  once,  but  she  knew  so  little  about 
them." 

"  There  are  so  many  of  them,"  returned  Ruth, 
smiling,  "  and  as  Miss  Brydon  has  never  seen  any  of 
them,  it  was  hardly  surprising  that  she  should  know 
little  or  nothing  about  them.  Shall  I  begin  with  the 
girls?" 

Maureen  nodded. 

"  Well,  Olivia  is  the  eldest.  She  is  an  extremely 
handsome  girl,  and  very  much  admired — far  more  than 
Gwendoline,  who  is  only  passably  good-looking.  Olivia 
is  just  engaged ;  it  has  been  quite  a  family  excitement. 
Clement  Le  Marchant  is  a  barrister,  he  is  very  well 
off,  and  since  his  cousin's  death  a  few  months  ago  he 
is  the  presumptive  heir  to  a  baronetcy.  So  Uncle  George 
and  Aunt  Sophy  are  very  much  pleased  with  the 
engagement." 

"  But  is  Mr.  Le  Marchant  really  nice  ?  " 


"I  Want  You  to  Understand"         177 

"  Oh  yes,  Olivia  says  so,  and  I  suppose  she  ought 
to  know.  She  certainly  seems  to  like  him  very  much, 
and  Percy  says  he  is  a  capital  fellow.  He  seems  to 
me  a  little  bit  too  self-assured  and  fond  of  his  own 
opinion,  but  perhaps  he  has  been  spoilt.  Olivia  has 
plenty  of  good  sense,  and  she  must  take  him  in  hand ; 
they  will  not  be  married  before  next  spring,  but  we 
are  already  discussing  the  bridesmaids'  dresses." 

Maureen  was  immensely  interested.  "  And  then 
comes  '  Gwendoline,  who  is  only  passably  good-look- 
ing,' "  she  continued,  in  a  tone  which  betokened  her 
enjoyment. 

"  Well,  she  takes  after  Aunt  Sophy,  you  see,  but 
she  is  very  nice  and  good-tempered,  so  people  never 
think  her  plain. 

"  Doris,  who  comes  next,  is  really  pretty.  She  is  my 
special  friend,  and  as  we  are  the  same  age  we  made 
our  debut  together.  She  is  a  dear  girl,  and  I  am  very 
fond  of  her;  and  when  I  am  away  she  generally  writes 
to  me  once  or  twice  a  week." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  returned  Maureen ;  "  for  when 
one  is  away  from  home,  one  cannot  have  too  many 
letters." 

"  I  do  not  know  why  it  is,"  observed  Ruth,  pensively, 
"  but  I  never  can  look  upon  Westcombe  Lodge  as  my 
home,  and  yet  they  are  all  so  good  and  kind  to  me. 
But  never  mind  that  just  now,  let  me  finish  about  the 
cousins.  Jessie,  the  youngest  girl,  is  between  fifteen  and 
sixteen,  and  is  still  in  the  schoolroom  with  mademoiselle. 
She  is  rather  unfledged  at  present,  a  tall  slip  of  a  girl, 
but  I  daresay  she  will  improve  in  a  year  or  so." 

"How  many  boys  are  there?"  asked  Maureen,  as 
Ruth  paused. 

"  Five.  But,  my  dear  girl,  one  cannot  call  them 
boys.  Charles  and  Rudolf  are  married,  and  have  chil- 
dren of  their  own.  Why,  Charles  is  getting  a  little  bald, 
and  his  eldest  boy  is  eight  years  old.  The  Rudolfs,  as 
we  call  them,  have  the  dearest  little  twin  girls.  Then 

12 


178  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

there  is  Percival,  who  is  in  the  Civil  Service,  and  at 
present  lives  at  home;  but  he  talks  of  taking  a  flat  with 
a  friend.' 

"  Is  he  nice  ?  "  But  to  her  surprise  Ruth  blushed  and 
hesitated. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so ;  he  is  certainly  very  good-looking, 
and  all  the  girls  seem  to  admire  him.  But  Kenneth  is 
my  favourite.  He  is  a  dear  fellow,  and  so  good  and 
unselfish ;  he  is  with  his  regiment  in  India,  and  Doris 
and  I  nearly  cried  our  eyes  out  when  he  left."  Ruth 
said  this  with  such  frank  simplicity  that  any  idea  of 
some  budding  romance  connected  with  the  young  soldier 
died  a  natural  death.  It  was  evident  that  Ruth  only 
felt  a  warm  sisterly  affection  for  her  cousin  Kenneth ; 
indeed,  her  next  words  proved  this. 

"  Kenneth  isn't  a  bit  good-looking,"  she  went  on, 
"  but  he  is  so  strong  and  manly,  and  has  such  a  pleasant, 
honest  expression.  I  really  think  if  he  were  my  own 
brother  I  could  not  be  fonder  of  him ;  and  he  is  so  kind, 
and  writes  to  me  such  nice  long  letters.  He  is  every 
inch  a  soldier,  and  loves  his  work,  and  we  are  very  proud 
of  him." 

"  There  is  one  more  cousin  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Antony — Tony  we  call  him — but  he  is  quite 
a  boy  still,  though  he  has  left  Harrow  and  gone  to 
Oxford.  Percy  calls  him  a  cub,  and  he  is  certainly  a 
little  rough,  but  he  is  a  good-hearted  fellow,  and  I  expect 
the  university  will  polish  him.  There,  you  have  my 
list  complete,"  finished  Ruth  gaily.  "  And  I  think  it  is 
your  turn  to  talk  now." 

As  Maureen  was  never  loath  to  enlarge  on  the  merits 
of  her  belongings,  she  was  soon  plunged  into  an  ex- 
haustive description  of  the  Homestead  and  its  inmates, 
until  they  were  summoned  to  luncheon.  They  spent 
the  afternoon  in  Shady  Nook  swinging  lazily  in  their 
hammocks,  now  talking  by  snatches,  followed  by  inter- 
vals of  enjoyable  silence.  After  tea  they  had  a  bicycle 
ride,  only  returning  home  in  time  to  dress  for  dinner. 


"I  Want  You  to  Understand"         179 

The  rest  of  the  evening  was  spent  in  Ruth's  sitting- 
room.  At  Maureen's  request  Ruth  had  sung  two  or  three 
songs.  She  had  a  charming  voice,  and  sang  with  a  good 
deal  of  expression;  she  had  evidently  been  well  taught. 
Maureen,  who  established  herself  comfortably  on  the 
high  window-seat,  listened  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure, 
and  was  sorry  when  Ruth  closed  the  piano. 

"  I  shall  not  be  able  to  talk  to  you  to-morrow,"  she 
observed,  as  she  seated  herself  in  the  opposite  corner, 
"  so  I  will  make  hay  while  the  sun  shines."  And  Ruth 
laid  her  soft  little  hands  affectionately  on  Maureen  for 
a  moment. 

"  Isn't  it  strange  how  soon  we  have  got  to  know  each 
other?  If  we  had  been  friends  for  years  instead  of 
days  I  could  not  talk  more  comfortably  to  you.  You 
are  so  sympathetic  and  understand  so  quickly." 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  that." 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  the  truth.  Do  you  know,  dear,  fond 
as  I  am  of  Doris,  there  are  things  I  never  mention  to 
her.  What  would  be  the  use?  She  would  not  under- 
stand. That  is  what  I  feel  with  all  my  cousins;  in 
spite  of  their  good  hearts  they  are  extremely  limited.  It 
is  so  trying,"  continued  Ruth,  plaintively,  "  when  one  is 
very  much  in  earnest  on  a  subject,  and  feels  very  strongly 
about  it  to  be  met  with  a  blank  stare  or  an  incredulous 
laugh.  '  What  an  odd  little  creature  you  are,  Ruth ! ' 
I  have  heard  Olivia  say  that  again  and  again.  '  You  are 
so  full  of  fads  and  fancies  that  no  healthy-minded  person 
can  understand  you.'  And  then  Gwen  would  chime  in 
and  tell  me  I  was  an  ungrateful  chit  to  be  discontented. 
'  If  I  were  only  in  your  place,'  she  would  say.  That  is 
the  worst  of  them — they  all  think  so  much  about  my 
money." 

"  Money  is  rather  nice,"  returned  Maureen.  "  I 
often  wish  I  had  more  of  it,  if  it  were  only  for  Harold's 
sake." 

"  Oh  yes.  of  course  it  is  a  blessing,"  returned  Ruth, 
hastily,  "  and  I  suppose  I  like  pretty  frocks  and  nice 


180  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

things  as  much  as  most  girls — but  it  is  not  everything. 

"  Oh  dear,  no." 

"If  it  were  not  for  mother's  money,  I  expect  Romney 

would  let  me  live  with  him.     In  that  case,  he  would  have 

hought  it  his  duty  to  take  care  of  me."     Ruth's  tone 

was  so  suggestive  of  sadness  that  Maureen  looked  at 

her  in  surprise. 

"  Should  you  have  liked  that  ?  "  she  asked,  softly. 

Outside  the  moonlight  was  shining  on  the  lawn  of 
the  little  walled  garden,  only  the  tree  shadows  lay  dark 
at  the  farther  end.  Two  shaded  lamps  cast  a  pleasant, 
subdued  light  on  the  room,  but  the  deep  embrasure  with 
its  heavy  curtains,  where  the  girls  sat,  was  so  dark  that 
they  could  hardly  see  each  other's  faces. 

Ruth  was  silent  for  a  moment  after  Maureen  had 
put  the  question. 

"  Should  I  like  it  ?  "  she  returned,  with  such  intense 
longing  in  her  voice  that  Maureen  was  startled.  "  This 
morning  you  were  talking  about  your  brother  Harold. 
You  were  telling  me  how  dear  he  was  to  you,  the  pride 
you  took  in  him,  and  no  one  who  heard  you  could  have 
doubted  your  sincerity  for  a  moment.  I  could  scarcely 
refrain  from  tears  as  I  listened.  Maureen,  you  do  not 
love  him  more  than  I  do  Romney." 

"  Dear  Ruth,  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  love  your 
brother.  Aunt  Margaret  has  always  told  me  so.  He 
saved  your  life  when  you  were  a  little  child.  But  forgive 
me  if  I  pain  you — I  would  not  do  that  for  the  world — 
but  Mr.  Chaytor  is  so  much  older,  you  have  lived  with 
him  so  little,  and  then  your  mother  was  not  his." 

"  And  you  think  all  that  ought  to  make  a  difference 
to  my  affection  ? "  returned  Ruth,  a  little  indignantly 
"  That  is  what  they  all  say.  Aunt  Sophy  has  pointed 
out  to  me  more  than  once  that  I  ought  not  to  fret  so 
r.fter  Romney,  when  he  evidently  does  not  wish  to  keep 
me  with  him;  but  it  is  cruel  of  her  to  tell  me  these 
things,"  and  Ruth's  voice  was  a  little  choked. 


"I  Want  You  to  Understand"         181 

"  I  am  quite  sure  from  all  Aunt  Margaret  has  told 
me  that  Mr.  Chaytor  is  thinking  more  of  your  happiness 
than  his  own  convenience,"  returned  Maureen,  sooth- 
ingly. But  Ruth  was  not  to  be  so  easily  consoled. 

"  Xo,  no,  she  is  right,  and  Romney  does  not  want 
me;  only  it  breaks  my  heart  to  realise  it.  Maureen,  I 
do  so  want  you  to  understand,  it  will  make  me  feel  less 
lonely.  Just  listen  to  me  a  moment.  From  a  mere  baby 
I  was  devoted  to  Romney.  My  nurse  has  often  told  me 
how  I  used  to  hold  out  my  arms  to  him,  and  scream  when 
he  left  me.  I  think  even  in  those  days  I  knew  him  best, 
and  yet  he  was  so  strange  that  he  took  hardly  any  notice 
of  me  unless  we  were  alone.  Then  he  saved  my  life — 
but  you  have  heard  all  about  that  from  Miss  Brydon." 

Maureen  assented  to  this. 

"  I  am  thankful  that  you  know,  for  I  never  could  tell 
that  story;  it  turns  me  cold  even  to  think  of  it.  Yes, 
he  saved  my  life,  noble  fellow,  but  at  what  a  price !  " 
And  then  Ruth  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobbed. 

"  Oh,  but  he  has  never  repented  it,"  returned 
Maureen,  softly.  "  Please,  please,  do  not  cry  so." 

"  I  always  cry  when  I  think  of  it.  Sometimes  I  feel 
as  though  I  could  hardly  bear  it.  We  have  never  spoken 
of  it  to  each  other — never  once;  he  will  not  allow  any 
one  to  say  a  word  to  him  upon  the  subject.  But  one  day 
when  I  was  feeling  very  miserable  I  wrote  to  him,  and 
he  sent  me  such  a  dear  little  letter  in  reply.  I  have  almost 
worn  away  the  edges  of  the  paper  reading  and  re-reading 
it ;  but  I  know  it  by  heart  now." 

"And  it  was  kind?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  and  it  did  me  so  much  good.  He  told 
me  that  if  it  should  all  come  over  again  and  he  could 
foresee  the  consequence,  that  he  would  do  the  same 
thing;  that  only  a  barbarian  could  leave  a  little  child 
to  suffocate  in  the  flames ;  that  he  had  never  reproached 
me  in  his  thoughts.  And  he  begged  me  not  to  be  morbid. 
Oh,  it  was  a  dear  letter,  and  it  has  been  a  comfort  to  me 
ever  since." 


XX 

YOU  HAVE  BEEN  SUCH  A  COMFORT 

Comfort  one  another — with  the  hand-clasp  close  and  tender, 

With  the  sweetness  love  can  render, 

And  the  looks  of  friendly  eyes. 

Do  not  wait  with  grace  unspoken, 

While  life's  daily  bread  is  broken; 

Gentle  speech  is  oft  like  manna  from  the  skies. 

M.  E.  SANGSTER. 

MAUREEN  never  knew  why  speech  seemed  so  difficult 
at  that  moment;  in  reality  she  was  brimming  over  with 
sympathy.  For  once  she  lacked  expression;  but  Ruth 
found  no  fault  with  her  silence,  she  instinctively  felt  that 
she  was  understood.  Maureen  at  least  had  not  told  her 
that  she  was  fanciful  and  morbid. 

"  Romney  said  in  his  letter  that  it  was  only  the  for- 
tunes of  war,"  she  went  on ;  "  that  many  a  brave  fellow 
goes  halt  or  maimed  during  the  remainder  of  his  life ; 
so  why  should  he  cry  out  because  an  accident  has  dis- 
abled him  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty.  And  then  he 
begged  me  never  to  refer  to  the  subject  again." 

"  I  should  think  such  a  letter  must  have  comforted 
you." 

"  So  it  did  for  a  time,  and  then  the  old  ache  and  pain 
came  back.  No,  you  must  not  blame  me,"  as  Maureen 
tried  to  speak ;  "  how  can  I  help  it  ?  Oh,  you  do  not 
know  Romney,  how  proud  and  sensitive  he  is.  And 
then  he  is  so  terribly  lonely,  and  I  know  it  is  all  my 
fault." 

"  Oh  no,  you  must  not  say  that,  Ruth.  Besides,  it  is 
not  true.  You  were  only  a  baby — an  innocent  agent  in 
the  hands  of  a  higher  Power.  You  should  let  Aunt 
Margaret  talk  to  you — she  is  so  much  wiser  than  I," 
continued  Maureen,  humbly,  "and  she  would  find 

182 


You  Have  Been  Such  a  Comfort       183 

just  the  right  words  to  say.  Don't  you  see  that  if  your 
brother's  life  is  marred,  it  is  because  it  was  God's  will 
that  you  should  both  suffer?  I  do  not  know  quite  how 
to  explain  my  meaning,  but  perhaps — one  does  not  know 
— this  very  loneliness  and  distress  of  mind,  and  the 
feeling  that  he  cannot  move  about  like  other  men,  may 
be  just  the  cross  given  him  to  bear,  and  it  may  be  your 
duty  to  submit  to  it  for  his  sake  as  well  as  your  own." 

"  Oh,  Maureen,  I  knew  you  would  understand,"  ob- 
served Ruth.  "  Yes,  I  think  I  can  grasp  your  meaning. 
A  good  old  clergyman,  a  great  friend  of  ours,  but  he 
is  dead  now,  once  said  much  the  same  thing  to  me,  only 
he  expressed  it  rather  differently. 

"  '  You  take  care  of  your  own  life-work,  child,  and 
leave  your  brother  to  do  his.  What  is  the  use  of  trying 
to  pull  him  back,  when  he  is  climbing  as  well  as  he  can? 
Loving  hands  should  help,  not  hinder.' ': 

"Well,  dear,  I  think  that  is  beautiful." 

"  Yes,  and  I  do  try  my  hardest  to  be  patient.  But, 
Maureen,  if  you  only  knew  the  longing  I  have  to  devote 
my  life  to  Romney.  If  he  would  only  let  me  live  with 
him;  if  I  could  draw  him  out  of  his  solitude,  and  make 
him  believe  how  people  would  welcome  him.  What  does 
his  lameness  matter!  But  no,  he  shuts  himself  up  and 
lives  like  a  hermit,  and  the  habit  will  soon  be  too  strong 
for  him." 

"  I  wish  he  were  not  so  terribly  proud,"  returned 
Maureen,  rather  gravely.  "  I  can  understand  his  feelings. 
He  hates  people  to  notice  or  pity  him.  But  after  the 
first  they  would  get  used  to  it." 

"  That  is  what  I  want  to  tell  him,  but  I  never  dare 
to  hint  at  such  a  thing.  It  is  all  pride,  pride.  '  Why 
are  you  not  fair  on  other  people?'  that  is  what  I  want 
to  say  to  him.  '  You  are  living  for  yourself,  and  you 
will  not  let  even  your  little  sister  be  a  comfort  to  you ; 
and  it  is  wrong,  Romney,  and  you  ought  to  know  it.' 
But  I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever  have  courage  to  make  my 


184  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

little  speech — "  with  a  pitiful  smile  that  Maureen  could 
not  see. 

"  Perhaps  the  opportunity  will  come,"  she  returned, 
hopefully.  "  Do  you  think,  do  you  really  think,  Ruth, 
that  you  would  be  happier  here,  in  this  isolated  house, 
than  with  all  your  cousins  at  Westcombe  Lodge  ? " 

"  I  was  never  more  sure  of  anything  in  my  life," 
returned  Ruth,  earnestly.  "  I  told  you  this  morning  that 
I  never  could  consider  Westcombe  Lodge  as  my  home. 
It  is  difficult  to  explain,  but  the  whole  atmosphere  is 
not  congenial  to  me.  There  is  too  much  talk  about  money 
and  money-making;  too  much  pleasure,  and  too  little 
time  for  thinking.  Even  Doris,  dear  soul,  can  talk  of 
nothing  but  balls  and  ball-dresses  from  morning  to 
night.  Sometimes  I  get  so  weary  of  the  noise  and  bustle 
and  endless  chatter  that  I  go  and  shut  myself  up  in  my 
own  room.  I  don't  know  what  your  opinion  may  be, 
Maureen,  but  I  don't  think  we  are  sent  into  the  world  to 
play  about,  as  though  we  were  children,  and  had  nothing 
to  do  but  amuse  ourselves." 

"  I  wish  Aunt  Margaret  could  have  heard  that." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Brydon  agrees  with  me.  We  have 
famous  talks  sometimes.  She  wants  me  to  find  some 
work,  to  keep  me  '  sane  and  happy,'  as  she  expresses  it. 
'  If  you  only  befriend  one  or  two  crippled  children,  and 
go  and  amuse  and  talk  to  them  sometimes,'  she  said  once. 
'  it  will  fill  up  little  crannies  of  your  time  very  usefully.' 
But,  my  dear,  there  are  no  spare  moments  at  West- 
combe Lodge.  We  are  in  a  bustle  and  hustle  from  morn- 
ing to  night.  It  is  rather  pleasant  at  the  time ;  but  there 
is  such  an  empty  feeling  afterwards, .as  though  one  were 
very  hungry  and  had  only  a  dessert  of  raisins  and  candied 
fruits  to  appease  one's  appetite." 

Ruth  spoke  in  such  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  way  that 
Maureen  laughed  outright;  but  the  homely  illustration 
seemed  to  her  very  apt  and  true — a  daily  round  of  per- 
petual pleasure-seeking  furnishes  very  poor  nutriment 
to  one  who  needs  better  things.  Maureen  felt  impressed. 


You  Have  Been  Such  a  Comfort       185 

Ruth  was  certainly  full  of  surprises.  Who  would  have 
supposed  that  this  pretty  creature,  with  her  childish  air 
and  winsome  ways,  had  so  much  force  of  character,  and 
such  feelings  concealed  beneath  her  charming  personality  ? 

It  was  quite  evident  to  her  that  Mr.  Chaytor  did 
not  realise  this,  and  that  while  he  cherished  her  with 
brotherly  tenderness,  and  did  all  in  his  power  to  make 
her  happy,  he  felt  no  special  need  of  her  companionship. 
Probably  he  thought  the  great  difference  in  their  ages 
prevented  any  closer  sympathy  between  them.  "  Very 
likely  she  is  a  little  shy  and  timid  with  him,"  she  said 
to  herself,  "  and  so  he  never  sees  this  side  of  her  at 
all."  Maureen's  shrewdness  had  grazed  the  truth.  In 
Romney  Chaytor's  eyes  Ruth  was  only  a  clever  child. 
A  little  restless  and  discontented,  as  many  girls  are,  but 
very  easily  guided  and  controlled. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  boring  you  dreadfully,"  observed 
Ruth ;  "  and  you  have  been  so  good  and  patient  with 
me.  Do  you  know,  it  must  be  very  late,  and  Marshall 
must  be  waiting  to  shut  up."  Then  Maureen,  who  was 
not  in  the  least  tired  or  sleepy,  rose  reluctantly  from  her 
nest  of  cushions. 

"  We  have  not  quite  finished  our  conversation,  have 
we  ?  "  she  said,  as  Ruth  wished  her  good-night. 

"  Yes ;  I  shall  not  let  you  talk  more  now,  but  we 
shall  have  the  whole  morning  together,  as  you  have 
promised  not  to  leave  me  until  after  luncheon."  And 
then  as  she  kissed  her  she  said  in  a  low  voice :  "  Oh, 
Maureen,  I  had  no  idea  that  you  would  be  quite  so  nice. 
You  have  been  such  a  comfort."  Ruth  said  this  with 
such  a  winning  air,  and  her  little  face  looked  so  pale 
and  tired,  that  Maureen  felt  more  drawn  to  her  than 
ever,  and  she  lay  awake  a  full  hour  thinking  how  she 
could  best  help  her. 

The  weather  had  changed  during  the  night,  and 
when  the  girls  woke  the  rain  was  pattering  against  the 
windows.  Windy-How  and  Shady  Nook  were  clearly 
out  of  the  question,  so  there  was  only  the  option  of 


186  -The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

the  library  and  the  morning-room.  When  Ruth  offered 
her  the  choice,  Maureen  decided  in  favour  of  the  morn- 
ing-room, in  spite  of  Ruth's  assurances  that  her  brother 
would  not  mind.  She  felt  strangely  reluctant  to  take 
possession  of  Mr.  Chaytor's  private  apartment  in  his 
absence. 

"  You  shall  do  just  as  you  like,"  returned  Ruth, 
easily.  "  I  only  thought  the  library  would  be  more  cheer- 
ful this  wet  day,  and  it  is  so  much  lighter  with  all  those 
windows,  and  of  course  I  knew  that  Romney  would  be 
pleased  for  us  to  sit  there;  but  I  daresay  we  shall  be 
cosy  enough  in  the  morning-room.  I  want  to  get  on 
with  my  embroidery ;  it  is  for  a  cushion  for  Aunt  Sophy's 
birthday,  and  I  think  it  will  be  very  effective  when  it 
is  done." 

Ruth  was  doing  her  best  to  be  cheerful,  but  the 
shadow  of  last  night's  talk  still  hung  over  them.  Maureen 
was  the  first  to  refer  to  it. 

"  Ruth,"  she  said  presently,  "  I  felt  so  touched  by 
your  confidence  last  evening.  I  do  hope  I  did  not  dis- 
appoint you  in  any  way.  I  have  been  thinking  over 
things,  and  I  do  enter  into  your  feeling  so  thoroughly." 
Ruth  looked  up  from  her  embroidery.  Her  eyes  were 
a  little  heavy,  as  though  she  had  shed  some  tears,  but 
her  expression  was  very  sweet. 

"  Thank  you,  dear,  that  is  what  I  wanted  to  know 
last  night.  I  was  afraid  you  would  think  me  discontented 
and  ungrateful  for  all  my  blessings." 

"  Oh  dear,  no,  such  a  thought  never  entered  my  mind  ! 
Only  I  was  sorry  that  you  were  not  more  satisfied  with 
your  environment." 

"  I  shall  never  be  that,"  returned  Ruth,  taking  up 
her  work  with  a  sigh ;  "  but  I  mean  to  be  brave  and 
not  fret  so  much  after  Romney.  I  daresay  it  is  my 
own  fault  that  I  do  not  make  more  of  my  life.  I  shall 
have  a  good  talk  with  Miss  Brydon — she  is  such  a  help- 
ful, comfortable  person — and  then  I  really  will  try  and 
turn  over  a  new  leaf,  aqd  not  mind  if  the  girls  laugh 


You  Have  Been  Such  a  Comfort       187 

at  me  for  '  slumming,'  as  they  call  it.  Isn't  it  hard  work 
trying  to  do  one's  duty,  Maureen?  It  is  like  pushing 
a  heavy  truck  up  a  hill :  if  you  let  go  for  a  moment  it 
runs  back  ever  so  far."  And  Ruth  made  a  funny  little 
face  of  self-disgust  which  amused  Maureen,  and  after 
this  they  were  more  cheerful. 

They  did  not  quite  quit  the  subject,  for  Maureen  was 
bent  on  making  Ruth  look  at  things  in  a  brighter  light, 
and  after  a  time  she  succeeded  in  this. 

"  I  think  it  is  your  duty  to  be  as  happy  as  possible, 
and  to  make  other  people  happy,  too,"  continued 
Maureen.  "  A  sunshiny  person  like  Aunt  Margaret,  for 
example,  does  so  much  good ;  and  you  are  really  fond 
of  your  aunt  and  cousins." 

Ruth  assented  to  this,  but  without  enthusiasm.  "  I 
ought  to  be  fond  of  them  when  they  show  me  so  much 
kindness  and  consideration." 

"  They  certainly  seem  nice,  friendly  folk,"  returned 
Maureen,  "  though  perhaps  a  little  limited  in  their  ideas ; 
but  they  ought  to  allow  you  plenty  of  scope.  You  will 
have  to  put  your  foot  down,  Ruth — it  is  a  pretty  little 
foot,  too,  dear — and  insist  on  taking  your  own  way." 

But  though  Ruth  agreed  to  this  she  was  evidently 
dubious  as  to  results.  "  But  I  will  do  my  best,"  she 
finished  in  a  brighter  tone. 

Maureen  nodded  approvingly.  "  Then  there  is  only 
one  more  thing  I  have  to  say.  I  want  you  not  to  trouble 
so  much  about  your  brother.  Why  not  leave  things  to 
work  round  naturally.  Perhaps  one  day  he  may  need 
you  and  tell  you  so,  and  then  you  would  get  your  wish." 

Ruth  smiled  faintly.  "  I  am  afraid  that  day  is  far 
distant.  But  you  are  right,  and  I  must  not  be  self- 
willed.  I  quite  see  that  I  owe  a  duty  to  Aunt  Sophy 
and  Uncle  George,  for  they  have  always  treated  me  like 
their  own  child.  Besides,  until  I  am  of  age — which  will 
not  be  for  eighteen  months — I  have  no  right  to  take  my 
own  course  " ;  and  then  Ruth  resolutely  closed  the  sub- 


188  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

ject  by  begging  Maureen  to  tell  her  a  little  more  about 
the  Homestead. 

As  the  afternoon  continued  wet,  Maureen  was  sent 
back  to  the  Garden  House  in  the  brougham.  Ruth  ac- 
companied her,  as  she  had  promised  to  have  tea  with 
Mrs.  Whitworth.  The  two  girls  parted  affectionately 
with  much  regret,  but  Ruth  consoled  herself  with  the 
remembrance  that  Romney  would  be  back  that  evening. 
"  I  shall  come  and  see  you  both  to-morrow  or  the  next 
day,"  she  observed,  waving  her  hand  to  Margaret  who 
was  just  crossing  the  hall,  and  who  welcomed  Maureen 
as  warmly  as  though  she  had  been  away  a  month. 

"  This  is  delightful,"  she  remarked,  beaming  on  her 
niece  as  she  sat  opposite  to  her  with  the  tea-table  between 
them.  "  I  have  not  been  the  least  dull.  I  have  had  a 
grand  garden  day  and  a  regular  stand-up  fight  with 
Giles.  The  old  man  lost  his  temper,  but  he  apologised 
and  begged  my  pardon,  and  we  shook  hands.  And 
after  that  it  was  all  as  smooth  as  a  midsummer  night's 
dream :  '  I  will  roar  you  as  gently  as  any  sucking  dove ' 
— you  know  the  kind  of  thing  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  laughed  Maureen.  "  And  after  that  you 
were  both  as  grubby  and  happy  as  two  slum  infants. 
And  I  expect  you  tired  yourself  so  much  that  you  had 
a  nap  on  the  couch  after  dinner."  And  Margaret  was 
unable  to  deny  this. 

She  was  intensely  interested  in  all  Maureen  told  her, 
but  she  seemed  a  little  unwilling  to  be  drawn  into  a 
discussion  about  Ruth.  "  That  will  keep,"  she  observed 
"  and  we  will  put  it  on  the  shelf  for  the  present.  The 
fact  is,"  as  Maureen  looked  a  little  disconcerted  at  this, 
"  I  have  rather  a  pleasant  piece  of  news  for  you,  and 
I  think  you  will  like  to  hear  it  as  soon  as  possible.  Your 
father  intends  to  come  down  on  Saturday,  and  if  we  do 
not  object,  he  will  bring  Irene  with  him,  and  they  will 
probably  stay  a  week.  I  told  Daniel  when  I  wrote  last 
night,  after  I  had  finished  my  nap,  that  there  was  no 
fear  of  either  of  us  making  any  objection.  Was  I  right, 


You  Have  Been  Such  a  Comfort       189 

Maureen  ? "  But  she  need  not  have  asked  the  question, 
Maureen's  face  expressed  such  intense  satisfaction. 

"  Father  is  really  coming,"  she  exclaimed,  "  and  Irene 
too,  bless  her !  " 

Margaret's  soft  heart  smote  her  a  little  at  the  girl's 
tone  of  rapture.  "  Poor  little  soul,  she  has  been  very 
brave,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  she  never  lets  me  know  how 
much  she  misses  them." 

"  I  fancy  your  mother  wanted  to  come,"  she  con- 
tinued aloud.  "  Wait  a  moment  and  I  will  read  what 
your  father  says  about  it :  '  Anna  was  strongly  tempted 
to  come  with  me,  and  of  course  it  is  only  natural  that 
she  would  like  to  see  Maureen,  as  the  child  has  never 
been  away  from  us  before.  But  she  could  not  well  leave 
at  such  short  notice,  and  she  thought  Irene  needed  a 
little  change.'" 

"  Oh  dear,  how  nice  if  mother  could  have  come  too," 
returned  Maureen,  with  a  sudden  longing  for  a  sight 
of  the  strong,  handsome  face ;  "  but  she  is  always  so 
dreadfully  busy." 

"  Never  mind,  you  shall  go  to  the  Homestead  for  a 
good  long  visit  in  October,"  replied  Margaret,  cheerfully, 
"  while  I  am  staying  with  Mrs.  Macdonald  near  Edin- 
burgh. I  really  must  go  to  them  this  year.  You  know 
Mrs.  Macdonald  was  a  dear  friend  of  Mrs.  Rayner's, 
and  in  the  old  days  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  her.  She 
generally  came  once  a  year  to  the  Garden  House;  but 
ever  since  a  carriage  accident  two  or  three  years  ago, 
she  has  never  left  home." 

"  And  I  am  to  go  home  while  you  are  in  Scotland, 
Aunt  Maggie  ?  What  a  very  nice  arrangement !  " 

"  Yes,  it  fits  in  rather  well,"  returned  Margaret,  con- 
placently.  "  I  expect  I  shall  be  at  Red  Braes  for  about 
a  month  or  five  weeks,  so  you  will  have  quite  a  nice 
long  time  with  your  belongings.  Well,  that  is  settled; 
and  now  we  must  decide  if  the  little  blue  room,  as  we 
call  it,  can  be  made  presentable  for  Irene.  It  has  been 
so  little  used,  and  I  am  afraid  it  wants  doing  up  dread- 


190  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

fully."  But  Maureen,  who  had  rather  a  liking  for  the 
room,  promptly  negatived  this. 

"  I  always  think  the  little  blue  room  so  delightfully 
old  fashioned  and  cosy,"  she  returned ;  "  and  I  know 
Irene  will  like  it.  When  the  fresh  covers  are  on,  it 
will  look  as  nice  as  possible."  And  this  seemed  to  com- 
fort Margaret's  housewifely  soul. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  she  said,  kindly,  "  to-morrow 
morning  we  will  see  what  we  can  do  to  make  it  pretty 
and  comfortable.  Now  I  must  answer  Mrs.  Macdonald's 
letter  before  dinner  " ;  and  Margaret  walked  off  to  her 
writing-room,  leaving  Maureen  to  read  her  father's  letter 
in  peace. 


XXI 

"FATHER'S  GIRL" 

It  is  life's  little  things  that  tell: 
The  kindly  thought  to  wish  us  well ; 
The  loving  touch  when  shines  afar 
The  hope  of  love,  like  distant  star. 

ESBEE. 

WHEN  Ruth  walked  over  to  the  Garden  House  on 
Thursday  afternoon  she  was  soon  put  in  possession  of 
Maureen's  delightful  piece  of  news,  and  her  sympathetic 
interest  was  quite  equal  to  the  occasion.  How  was  it 
possible  to  be  lukewarm  or  indifferent  when  the  girl 
was  fairly  bubbling  over  with  happy  anticipations? 

"  Father  is  coming  on  Saturday  for  a  whole  week, 
and  he  is  to  bring  Irene  with  him,"  were  her  first  words. 
"  Mother  would  have  liked  to  come  too,  but  she  was  too 
busy.  But  though  I  want  her  dreadfully,  I  must  be  con- 
tent with  my  dear  old  Peace." 

"  Peace,  what  a  quaint  name !  but  I  like  it  somehow. 
I  did  not  know  you  called  her  that." 

"  Yes,  Peace,  Pax,  or  the  Peaceful — Irene  means  that. 
You  know  she  is  such  a  sweet  thing,  and  so  pretty, 
though  there  is  nothing  striking  about  her.  Father  often 
tells  mother  that  not  one  of  her  daughters  can  compare 
with  her ;  and  of  course  he  is  right." 

The  two  girls  were  sitting  in  a  shady  corner  of  the 
tennis  lawn.  Margaret,  who  had  a  gardening  fit  on  that 
day,  had  not  yet  discarded  her  working  pinafore  and 
sun-bonnet,  and  was  weeding  the  banks  just  out  of 
earshot. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  your  mother,"  observed  Ruth, 
in  rather  a  regretful  tone. 

"  So  you  shall  some  day.  You  must  come  to  the 
Homestead  in  October,  when  I  shall  be  staying  there, 

191 


192  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

and  then  you  will  see  them  all.  I  am  sure  you  will 
admire  mother,  she  is  still  so  handsome — though  she 
looks  terribly  worn  and  tired  sometimes.  Some  people 
are  rather  in  awe  of  her,  because  she  is  so  reserved 
and  dignified.  She  is  not  a  great  talker,  but  somehow 
a  word  from  mother  goes  such  a  long  way." 

"  I  think  Miss  Brydon  told  me  once  that  she  was 
very  clever  and  intellectual." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Aunt  Margaret  has  a  great  respect  for  her ; 
and  I  know  mother  thinks  the  world  of  her,  and  talks 
more  to  her  than  to  any  other  person  unless  it  be  father." 

"  And  your  father,  Maureen  ?  " 

"  Oh,  father  is  quite  different.  He  is  rather  small 
and  insignificant-looking;  but  when  you  know  him,  there 
is  no  fear  of  your  not  liking  him.  To  us  he  is  just 
father."  And  Maureen's  tone  expressed  such  simple 
trust,  and  reverence,  and  love,  that  Ruth  was  quite 
touched. 

Miss  Brydon,  too,  had  spoken  of  him  more  than  once ; 
and  Ruth  had  a  vivid  recollection  of  how  her  eyes  had 
softened  as  she  mentioned  his  name. 

"  My  brother  Daniel  has  great  force  of  character," 
she  had  said  then.  "  There  is  a  quiet  magnetism  about 
him  which  seems  to  "draw  and  influence  people.  When  he 
sets  his  heart  on  a  thing  he  generally  gets  it.  No  one 
who  did  not  know  him  could  understand  why  a  beautiful 
woman  like  my  sister-in-law  married  him;  but  Daniel 
knows."  And  Ruth  remembered  how  Margaret's  face 
had  lighted  up  as  she  said  this. 

Margaret's  words  and  manner  had  impressed  Ruth. 
They  had  been  discussing  some  abstract  subject  on  the 
influence  of  character  and  personal  beauty,  and  Mar- 
garet, who  had  been  indulging  in  a  sort  of  rambling 
essay,  had  drawn  an  illustration  from  her  home  circle 
by  way  of  elucidating  her  meaning. 

Ruth  was  a  little  sorry  that  Maureen's  dearly  beloved 
father  was  small  and  insignificant-looking.  Ruth  had 
rather  a  weakness  for  strength  and  a  good  appearance — • 


"Father's  Girl"  193 

the  men  of  her  family  were  all  tall  and  well  favoured — 
but  she  was  aware  this  was  mere  prejudice  on  her  part. 

She  was  heartily  interested  in  everything  Maureen 
told  her,  and  was  almost  sorry  when  Margaret  joined 
them,  and  the  conversation  became  general.  But  she 
was  quite  willing  to  give  them  a  description  of  her 
brother's  trip.  He  had  enjoyed  it  thoroughly,  and  had 
met  with  no  mishap  or  accident. 

"  He  could  talk  of  nothing  else  all  the  evening,"  she 
went  on ;  "  and  he  actually  persuaded  me  to  motor  over 
to  Chillingford  yesterday." 

"  Come,  that  was  brave  of  you,  Ruth,"  returned 
Margaret,  approvingly. 

"  It  was  not  bad,  and  Romney  was  very  kind,  and 
went  more  slowly  than  usual.  I  don't  think  I  really 
enjoyed  myself,  but  I  wanted  to  please  him.  To-morrow, 
he  and  Gale  are  going  for  a  longer  expedition  and  will 
not  be  back  until  eleven,  but  I  shall  be  spending  the 
evening  with  the  Brants.  By  the  bye,  Maureen,  Romney 
was  quite  sorry  that  we  did  not  use  the  library  that  wet 
day.  He  says  the  morning-room  is  so  dark  and  dull  in 
comparison.  But  I  told  him  we  were  very  happy." 

Ruth  took  her  leave  soon  after  this.  "  I  shall  think 
of  you  on  Saturday  evening,"  she  said,  as  she  kissed 
Maureen,  "  and  I  shall  certainly  come  and  call  on  your 
sister." 

"  I  hope  we  shall  not  be  out,  for  I  should  be  sorry  to 
miss  you.  Aunt  Margaret  tells  me  that  father  will  spend 
every  moment  he  can  at  St.  Quintin.  He  is  very  fond 
of  golf,  but  he  rarely  gets  a  chance  of  playing ;  and  that 
nice  old  Colonel  Darcy  who  lives  at  St.  Quintin's  Lodge 
is  always  very  pleased  to  play  a  game  with  him." 

"  In  that  case  I  must  take  my  chance,"  returned 
Ruth,  cheerfully ;  "  but  we  shall  be  sure  to  meet  somehow. 
Mrs.  Whitworth  will  ask  you  to  the  Rectory,  and  she 
will  send  me  an  invitation  as  a  matter  of  course;  or 
Lady  Betty  and  I  will  find  our  way  to  St.  Quintin,  and 
disturb  you  and  your  Peace  by  breaking  in  on  your  sis- 

13 


194  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

terly  confab."  And  Ruth  laughed  merrily  as  she  tripped 
away. 

Ruth's  curiosity  was  destined  to  be  satisfied  far 
earlier  than  she  imagined.  Some  business  had  taken 
her  over  to  Felsham  on  Saturday  afternoon,  and  having 
missed  the  return  train  she  had  intended  to  take,  she 
had  been  obliged  to  wait  an  hour  for  the  next. 

She  was  rather  annoyed  at  her  own  carelessness,  for 
she  knew  Romney  would  send  the  carriage  to  meet  her. 
Something  had  evidently  gone  wrong  with  her  watch, 
for  she  had  thought  she  had  full  ten  minutes  to  spare. 
She  had  not  even  a  book  to  amuse  her,  and  the  little 
country  station  offered  no  attraction:  a  couple  of 
labourers,  an  old  woman  with  some  carrots  tied  up  in 
a  blue  handkerchief,  and  a  mongrel  dog  were  appar- 
ently the  only  objects  to  be  seen  until  the  train  for 
Branksmere  made  its  appearance,  and  she  saw  two  people 
crossing  the  platform.  She  was  too  anxious  to  secure 
her  seat  to  take  much  notice  of  them,  but  they  followed 
her  into  the  compartment.  One  of  them,  a  young  lady, 
seated  herself  opposite  to  Ruth,  but  the  gentleman  stood 
by  the  door  waiting  to  ask  the  porter  a  question. 

"  The  box  and  portmanteau  are  all  right,  Irene,"  he 
said,  as  he  sat  down.  Ruth  started,  and  her  eyes  took 
a  rapid  survey  of  her  fellow-travellers. 

"  Yes,  of  course  it  must  be  the  Brydons,"  thought 
she.  They  certainly  answered  to  Maureen's  description. 
The  girl  was  fair,  and  her  eyes  and  colouring  rather 
pretty;  there  was  a  pleasant,  reposeful  look  about  her 
that  exactly  suited  her  name.  Then  she  turned  her  atten- 
tion to  the  quiet-looking  little  man  who  had  spoken.  He 

had  a  nice  voice  and  rather  a  clever  face But  here 

a  pair  of  quiet  grey  eyes  met  hers,  and  Ruth  blushed  a 
little  as  though  she  had  been  guilty  of  the  rudeness  of 
staring,  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 

Daniel  Brydon's  observant  glance  had  made  her  feel 
shy,  and  checked  her  impulse  to  speak,  and  yet  how 
absurd  it  seemed.  She  had  not  a  doubt  of  their  identity, 


"Father's  Girl"  195 

and  Maureen  would  think  it  so  silly  and  formal  of  her 
not  to  introduce  herself. 

"  Don't  you  think  all  these  changes  tiresome,  father?  " 
observed  the  girl.  Her  voice  was  very  sedate  and  gentle, 
and  Ruth  remembered  that  Maureen  had  said  laugh- 
ingly that  Irene  was  a  little  mature  and  precise  in  her 
manner.  "  Harold  often  says  she  is  rather  an  Early 
Victorian  young  lady,"  she  had  continued,  and  again 
Ruth  felt  that  this  was  true. 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  much  of  a  journey,  really,"  returned 
the  gentleman,  "  and  we  shall  be  at  Branksmere  directly. 
I  expect  Maureen  will  be  on  the  lookout  for  us,  bless 
her  little  heart.  I  beg  your  pardon — did  you  speak  ?  " 
But  Ruth  had  not  spoken,  but  there  was  a  half-con- 
cealed smile  on  her  lips. 

"  No ;  only  you  mentioned  Maureen's  name,  and  it  is 
so  funny.  She  was  staying  with  me  last  Sunday,  and  I 
know  quite  well  that  I  am  speaking  to  her  father  and 
sister."  And  Ruth  spoke  in  such  a  winsome  way,  and 
looked  so  unfeignedly  pleased  at  the  recognition,  that 
Daniel  Brydon  quite  lost  his  heart  to  her. 

"  Then  you  must  be  Miss  Chaytor,"  he  returned,  with 
a  pleasant  smile,  and  then  he  held  out  his  hand  in  a 
friendly  way. 

"  My  son  had  a  long  letter  from  Maureen  the  day 
before  yesterday,  giving  him  a  glowing  description  of 
her  visit  to  Marsh  Hall." 

"  But  it  was  such  a  short  visit,"  objected  Ruth — "  only 
two  nights :  and  we  did  nothing  but  talk  from  morning 
to  evening." 

"  Maureen  loves  talking,"  observed  Irene,  in  her 
gentle  way.  "  We  miss  her  at  home — do  we  not,  father? 
Maureen  is  always  so  bright  and  cheery."  And  after  this 
they  became  very  friendly  and  sociable,  and  Ruth  quite 
lost  her  shyness  with  Mr.  Brydon  as  she  pointed  out  one 
landmark  after  another.  "  I  saw  at  once  how  nice  he 
was,"  she  said  afterwards  to  Maureen. 

"  There   she  is ! "   she  exclaimed   suddenly,  as  they 


196  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

entered  Branksmere  Station,  and  then  Ruth  quietly  held 
back  and  let  the  others  precede  her,  for  she  was  anxious 
to  efface  herself  until  the  first  greetings  were  over.  But 
though  she  kept  her  seat,  her  bright  eyes  saw  everything 
that  passed.  Maureen's  expression  when  she  caught 
sight  of  her  father,  the  way  she  clung  to  his  arm  as  he 
kissed  her,  and  then  the  close  embrace  between  the  sis- 
ters,— all  spoke  volumes  to  her.  But  Maureen's  astonish- 
ment when  she  saw  Ruth  leave  the  carriage  amused 
them  all.  She  dropped  her  father's  arm  and  darted 
towards  her. 

"  You  here,  Ruth  ?  Have  you  travelled  together  from 
Felsham  ?  "  Ruth  gave  one  of  her  quick  little  nods. 

"  Miss  Chaytor  kindly  introduced  herself,  my  dear," 
explained  her  father.  "  You  must  be  a  good  hand  at 
description,  Maureen,  for  she  told  us  that  she  recognised 
us  at  once." 

"  That  is  quite  true,"  returned  Ruth ;  "  but  if  you  had 
not  mentioned  Maureen's  name,  I  should  hardly  have 
ventured  to  speak.  It  was  rather  an  odd  coincidence 
certainly,  but  if  I  had  not  missed  my  train,  I  should  not 
have  had  this  pleasure."  Then,  as  they  went  out  of  the 
station,  Ruth  was  surprised  to  see  her  brother  waiting 
for  her  in  the  motor. 

She  hurried  towards  him.  "  I  am  so  sorry,  Romney, 
but  I  missed  my  train,  and  I  had  no  idea  that  you  would 
come  for  me  yourself."  Then  in  a  lower  tone :  "  Miss 
Bry don's  father  and  sister  have  come  by  this  train, 
and  we  travelled  together  from  Felsham." 

Romney  Chaytor  lifted  his  cap  as  he  bestowed  a 
searching  glance  at  the  little  group ;  but  his  manner, 
generally  a  little  stiff  and  repellant  to  strangers,  thawed 
perceptibly  as  it  rested  on  Maureen's  illuminated  face. 

"  I  don't  think  we  have  ever  met,  Mr.  Brydon,"  he 
observed,  quite  civilly.  "  I  am  so  often  away  from  Marsh 
Hall  that  I  daresay  I  missed  you." 

"  I  very  rarely  pay  my  sister  a  visit,"  returned  Daniel 
Brydon ;  "  a  week-end  once  or  twice  a  year."  Then 


"Father's  Girl"  197 

after  a  few  more  words,  Maureen  reminded  her  father 
that  the  omnibus  was  waiting  for  them.  Then  Ruth 
jumped  into  the  motor,  and  the  next  minute  she  and  the 
motor  were  out  of  sight. 

"  Your  new  friend  is  a  very  attractive  little  person, 
Maureen,"  observed  her  father ;  "  uncommonly  pretty, 
too." 

"  Yes,  indeed/'  chimed  in  Irene,  "  and  so  beautifully 
dressed.  So  that  is  the  wonderful  Mr.  Chaytor  you  and 
Harold  talk  about — the  Viking,  as  you  call  him?  Dear 
me,  what  a  pity  he  is  lame ;  he  seems  such  a  fine,  attrac- 
tive-looking man.  But  I  don't  consider  him  exactly 
handsome." 

"  I  don't  think  that  either  of  us  said  that  he  was," 
returned  Maureen,  quickly. 

"  No,  perhaps  not,"  observed  Irene,  placidly.  "  I 
suppose  I  must  have  drawn  my  own  conclusions.  He 
is  certainly  an  uncommon-looking  man.  What  a  con- 
trast his  sister  is  to  him !  But  before  we  discuss  your 
friends,  Maureen,  I  must  give  you  the  home  messages." 
And  then  for  the  remainder  of  the  short  journey, 
Maureen  plied  them  with  eager  questions. 

"When  they  reached  the  Garden  House,  Master  and 
Mistress  were  at  the  open  door  to  receive  them. 

"  So  you  have  come  at  last,  Daniel,"  were  his  sister's 
first  words ;  "  but  better  late  than  never,  my  dear  old 
boy."  And  then  she  led  him  into  the  house. 

When  the  travellers  had  been  refreshed  by  tea  the 
sisters  went  upstairs  together,  but  Daniel  Brydon  went 
out  in  the  garden  with  Margaret. 

"  Well,  Peggy,"  he  said,  as  he  lighted  his  cigarette, 
"  it  has  not  been  a  mistake,  has  it?  You  and  my  little 
girl  seem  to  hit  it  off." 

Margaret  put  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "  Dan,"  she 
said,  with  unmistakable  sincerity,  "  she  is  a  perfect  darl- 
ing. I  don't  know  how  I  have  managed  to  exist  without 
her  all  these  years;  but  she  is  an  absolute  necessity  to 
me  now." 


198  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

A  smile  of  amusement  came  to  Daniel  Brydon's  lips. 
He  knew  Peggy  so  well;  this  was  exactly  what  he  had 
expected  her  to  say. 

"  I  am  so  glad,  dear.  And  how  about  the  child 
herself?  To  me  she  seems  as  happy  as  possible,  and 
certainly  there  are  no  complaints  in  her  letters." 

"  I  think  she  is  content,"  returned  Margaret,  thought- 
fully. "  We  do  everything  together,  and  she  is  never 
restless  or  out  of  humour.  But  now  and  then  she  has 
quiet  moods,  and  then  I  know  she  is  a  little  home-sick 
and  missing  you  all." 

"  Not  more  than  we  miss  her,"  returned  her  brother. 
"  Anna  was  saying  to  me  only  last  night  how  she  was 
longing  to  see  the  child  again.  '  I  never  realised  how 
much  I  should  feel  her  absence,  Dan.  When  I  go  into 
her  little  empty  room  it  makes  me  quite  sad;  not  that 
I  would  deprive  dear  Margaret  of  her  companionship, 
but  I  suppose  if  one  had  a  dozen  children,  one  would 
still  miss  the  child  one  has  lost.' " 

"  No  doubt  that  is  quite  true,"  returned  Margaret ; 
"  but  Anna  has  not  lost  her,  so  I  shall  not  let  you  harrow 
up  my  feelings,  Dan.  Maureen  is  a  staunch,  loyal  little 
soul,  and  she  is  devoted  to  her  mother,  though  she  has 
always  been  more  father's  girl."  And  Margaret  gave 
her  brother  a  frankly-comprehending  look. 

"  I  cannot  deny  that  I  have  petted  her  a  bit,"  returned 
Daniel,  "  and,  though  I  make  no  distinction  between  my 
children,  that  I  have  taken  a  little  more  notice  of  her 
than  the  others.  But  it  has  come  about  quite  naturally. 
The  twins  are  wrapped  up  in  each  other,  and  Irene  has 
always  been  her  mother's  companion;  and  so  Maureen 
got  the  name  of  father's  girl." 

Margaret  smiled.  There  was  no  need  to  explain  any- 
thing to  her. 

"  How  is  Anna  ?  "  she  asked  presently. 

"  Well  in  health,  thank  God,  but  a  little  fagged  and 
tired-looking.  I  tell  her  that  she  does  far  too  much, 
that  she  is  the  vicar's  unpaid  drudge ;  but  she  only  laughs, 


"Father's  Girl"  199 

and  says  that  some  one  must  do  the  work.     When  you 
come  to  us  again,  Peggy,  you  must  talk  to  her." 

"  I  am  afraid  my  influence  will  be  nil,"  she  replied, 
sorrowfully.  "  Anna  is  one  of  those  active-minded  peo- 
ple who  prefer  to  wear  out  rather  than  rust.  Most 
women  need  occupation,  Dan,  and  some  outlet  for  their 
energies.  But  no  one  needs  it  more  than  Anna,"  she 
finished  under  her  breath ;  but  Daniel  heard  and  assented 
with  a  smile. 


XXII 

"THE  MAN'S  A  FOOL" 

Learn  to  make  the  most  of  life ;  lose  no  happy  day ; 
Time  will  never  give  thee  back  chances  swept  away. 
Leave  no  tender  word  unsaid;  love  while  love  shall  last; 
The  mill  cannot  grind  with  the  water  that  is  past. 

SARAH  DOUDNEY. 

MAUREEN  always  declared  that  the  week  that  followed 
her  father's  arrival  was  the  happiest  she  had  ever  spent. 

"  There  was  not  a  single  flaw  or  hitch,"  she  declared 
triumphantly,  "  except  that  the  days  passed  too  quickly." 

"  That  is  one  of  old  Time's  favourite  tricks,"  returned 
Margaret,  regretfully,  when  Maureen  made  this  speech. 
"  When  one  is  happy  the  hours  seem  to  fly.  It  is  only 
when  one  is  bored  or  dull  that  the  chariot  wheels  drive 
so  heavily." 

"  Yes,  but  it  was  so  delightful  while  it  lasted,"  re- 
turned the  girl ;  "  and  Irene  and  I  enjoyed  every  moment 
of  it,  and  I  certainly  think  we  made  the  most  of  our 
time."  And  Maureen  was  right. 

The  weather  had  been  unusually  kind.  Every  day 
there  was  sunshine,  but  the  sea  breezes  tempered  the 
heat.  Daniel  Brydon  spent  all  his  mornings  on  the  golf 
links,  and  either  Colonel  Darcy,  the  rector,  or  Henry 
Torrance  joined  him.  Every  day  the  little  omnibus  con- 
veyed them  to  St.  Quintin,  and  brought  them  back  to  a 
late  luncheon.  Sometimes  Margaret  accompanied  them, 
and  then  they  all  sat  on  the  links  and  watched  the  game. 
Margaret,  who  played  a  little,  but  was  terribly  out  of 
practice,  could  not  be  induced  to  join  them ;  but  she 
followed  the  players  with  unabating  interest.  On  other 
mornings  the  girls  sat  on  the  beach  with  their  work  and 
books ;  but  neither  of  them  read  much,  there  was  so  much 

200 


"The  Man's  a  Fool"  201 

to  say — so  many  little  details  which  could  not  be  told  in 
letters:  the  state  of  the  family  wardrobe;  Ninian's  last 
escapade;  Lois's  improved  health,  and  the  advent  of  the 
new  curate, — all  these  subjects  had  to  be  thoroughly  dis- 
cussed and  ventilated.  The  last  item  of  intelligence  in- 
terested Maureen  most. 

"  He  has  really  come,  then !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
quite  thought  that  Mr.  Reynolds  meant  to  wait  until 
Christmas." 

"  He  told  mother  that  the  work  was  too  much  for 
him  to  carry  on  any  longer  single-handed,"  returned 
Irene.  "  He  has  been  looking  sadly  fagged  since  the 
warm  weather  set  in.  Mr.  Walton  preached  at  the 
evening  service  last  Sunday.  I  think  we  shall  like  him. 
He  has  a  nice  voice,  and  seemed  very  much  in  earnest." 

"Have  any  of  you  spoken  to  him?" 

"  Yes ;  father  and  mother.  They  had  supper  at  the 
Vicarage,  and  mother  seemed  much  pleased  with  him. 
She  says  that  he  is  unmistakably  a  gentleman,  and  very 
pleasant  in  his  manner.  Mrs.  Reynolds  told  her  that 
his  mother  is  very  well  off,  and  rather  a  delightful 
person.  She  lives  at  Crowborough." 

"  Then  I  suppose  he  will  have  to  live  in  lodgings  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  has  taken  some  nice  rooms  in  the  Rothbury 
Road,  quite  close  to  the  church.  That  Mrs.  Williams, 
who  lost  her  husband  so  suddenly  last  year,  lives  there. 
It  is  her  own  house,  but  as  her  income  is  very  small 
she  will  be  glad  to  add  to  it.  She  has  only  one  little 
girl,  so  Mr.  Walton  will  be  quiet  and  comfortable." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  he  has  come,  for  mother's  sake," 
observed  Maureen ;  "  for  he  will  relieve  her  of  some  of 
her  work." 

''  That  is  what  we  all  say ;  but  mother  does  not  seem 
to  like  the  idea  of  giving  up  anything.  Of  course  it  is 
far  too  much  for  her,  and  I  know  it  worries  father  when 
she  looks  so  pale  and  tired.  But,  Maureen,  I  am  afraid 
sometimes  that  mother  would  not  be  happy  without  it." 

"  Why,  Pax,  what  an  odd  thing  for  you  to  say ;  as 


202  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

though  mother  would  not  be  happy  with  just  father  and 
all  of  us." 

"  I  don't  think  you  quite  grasp  my  meaning,"  re- 
turned Irene,  gently.  "  Mother  requires  more  than  most 
people.  Housekeeping  and  the  trivial  round  of  small 
daily  duties  are  far  more  irksome  to  her  than  to  me. 
Why,  I  love  everything;  but  mother  wants  wider 
interests." 

"  Now  you  are  making  her  out  a  sort  of  Mrs. 
Jellyby  " ;  and  Maureen's  tone  was  a  little  indignant.  But 
Irene  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

,  "  How  absurd  you  are,  dear !  Such  an  idea  never 
entered  my  head.  Poor  dear  mother !  But  I  think  Aunt 
Margaret  would  understand  what  I  mean.  Don't  you 
remember  her  telling  us  one  day  that  mother  was  too 
big  to  fit  exactly  into  her  hole,  and  we  both  laughed? 
But  really,  Maureen,  the  Homestead  is  rather  a  small 
place  foe  a  woman  like  mother;  and  if  it  were  not  for 
her  outside  work,  with  all  its  interests,  she  would  find  it 
rather  monotonous." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  quite  see  that ;  and  perhaps,  after  all,  it 
is  better  to  be  tired  than  dull." 

"  Oh,  we  generally  agree  about  things,"  returned 
Irene,  brightly.  "  But  there  is  one  thing  I  want  to  say 
before  we  finish  about  the  new  curate.  Mother  thinks 
he  will  be  such  a  nice  friend  for  Harold.  He  is  quite 
young — not  more  than  five-and-twenty.  Mother  wants 
father  to  call  upon  him." 

"And  he  will  do  so,  of  course?" 

"  Oh,  certainly,  if  mother  wishes  it.  But  he  had  his 
little  joke  first,  and  called  her  a  designing  woman  '' ; 
and  Irene  seemed  very  much  amused  as  she  said  this. 
"  The  cap  does  not  fit  mother  in  the  least — does  it, 
Maureen?"  But  though  Maureen  assented  to  this  with 
all  sincerity,  the  thought  would  cross  her  mind  that  of 
all  people  Irene  was  cut  out  for  a  clergyman's  wife, 
and  then  Lois  was  so  pretty. 


" The  Man's  a  Fool"  203 

"Is  Mr.  Walton  good-looking?"  she  asked,  .rather 
abruptly. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  The  church  was  rather  dark, 
and  I  scarcely  looked  at  him,"  returned  Irene,  innocently. 
"  I  daresay  father  could  tell  you.  Now  the  tide  has  been 
going  down  for  a  long  time,  and  I  want  to  look  for  some 
shells." 

But  if  the  mornings  were  delightful,  the  afternoons 
and  evenings  were  equally  so.  They  spent  most  of  the 
time  in  the  garden ;  the  tea-table  occupied  its  usual  corner 
of  the  tennis  lawn — the  rattle  of  tea-cups  rousing  Daniel 
from  a  nap.  "  Branksmere  air  always  marks  me  sleepy," 
he  would  say,  apologetically,  and  rubbing  his  eyes.  "  I 
was  reading  the  debates  until  the  print  began  to  joggle 
before  my  eyes." 

Maureen  laid  her  cheek  caressingly  against  her 
father's  head.  "  You  looked  so  comfy,  father  dear,  that 
Aunt  Margaret  hardly  liked  to  rattle  the  spoons  against 
the  cups,  but  she  was  afraid  our  visitors  would  arrive 
before  you  woke  up  " — for  that  afternoon  the  Whit  worths 
were  expected. 

Ruth  came  twice  by  special  invitation,  and  she  and 
Irene  became  excellent  friends.  "  I  like  your  Peace  so 
much,"  she  said  to  Maureen.  "  She  is  so  gentle,  and 
seems  to  think  so  much  more  of  other  people  than  her- 
self. She  is  certainly  a  little  older  than  her  age — elder 
sisters  often  are ;  but  all  the  same  she  is  charming."  "  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  think  her  so  very  pretty,"  she  said 
to  herself.  "  There  is  so  much  more  in  Maureen's  face, 
and  of  course  Maureen  is  a  hundred  times  more 
interesting." 

Maureen  was  secretly  disappointed  that  Ruth  had 
not  invited  them  to  pay  her  a  visit.  She  wanted  her 
father  and  Irene  to  see  Marsh  Hall.  "  I  suppose  she 
did  not  like  to  ask  her  brother  to  have  us  again  so  soon," 
she  thought;  and  this  was  probably  the  truth.  Except 
in  church  on  Sunday,  they  never  even  caught  sight  of 
Mr.  Chaytor. 


204  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

One  evening,  Margaret  asked  Mr.  Torrance  to  sup- 
per. She  knew  her  brother  liked  him;  he  had  seen  a 
good  deal  of  him  at  the  time  of  Mrs.  Raynor's  death, 
when  business  had  brought  them  together.  "  In  the 
summer  I  never  dine  late,  as  you  know,  Dan,"  she 
explained ;  "  Maureen  and  I  like  our  evening  meal  to  be 
a  movable  feast.  But  to-night  supper  will  really  be  at 
eight,  and  Mr.  Torrance  has  promised  to  be  punctual. 
If  you  like,  we  will  go  out  in  the  garden  afterwards,  and 
you  and  Mr.  Torrance  can  smoke." 

Daniel  gave  the  usual  low  laugh  which  always  be- 
tokened extreme  satisfaction ;  then  he  stooped  to  stroke 
the  collie's  glossy  head,  as  it  rested  against  his  knee. 

"  Tell  your  mistress,  Master,  that  I  quite  approve  of 
her  arrangements  for  the  evening's  entertainment.  When 
I  am  on  a  holiday  it  is  a  matter  of  principle  with  me  to 
spend  every  moment  I  can  in  the  open  air;  so  we  will 
have  our  coffee  outside." 

"  Very  well,  dear."  Then  Daniel  regarded  her  ap- 
provingly. "  You  are  looking  uncommonly  nice  this 
evening,  Peg,  my  dear;  somehow  you  seem  to  have 
grown  younger  this  year." 

"  Oh,  what  nonsense  " ;  but  there  was  quite  a  girlish 
blush  of  pleasure  on  Margaret's  sallow  face.  She  had 
always  been  keenly  sensitive  to  home  criticism,  though 
she  was  remarkably  indifferent  to  the  judgment  of  a 
mere  outsider.  "  It  must  be  my  new  frock,"  she  con- 
tinued, complacently.  "  Irene  and  Maureen  were 
admiring  it  just  now,  and  I  think  myself  that  it  is  very 
becoming." 

Daniel  shrugged  his  shoulders;  he  was  the  sort  of 
man  to  whom  female  dress  was  and  always  would  be 
a  sealed  mystery.  Material  baffled  him;  he  knew  when 
a  woman  looked  nice,  but  he  never  had  the  faintest  idea 
what  she  wore.  He  had  a  critical  eye  for  beauty,  and 
he  admired  his  wife  as  much  now  as  he  did  when  he 
married  her ;  but  with  the  exception  of  her  wedding  dress, 


"The  Man's  a  Fool"  205 

he  could  not  remember  one  of  her  gowns.  His  girls 
knew  this,  and  had  often  teased  him  on  the  subject. 

Margaret  was  certainly  looking  her  best  that  evening, 
and  her  dress  exactly  suited  her.  It  was  a  new  material 
which  had  come  into  fashion  that  season — a  sort  of  wine- 
coloured  cloth,  very  soft  and  light.  And  she  had  a  hat 
to  match,  and  the  shade  harmonised  with  her  dark  hair 
and  complexion.  She  looked  not  only  graceful  but  dis- 
tinguished ;  and  when  Henry  Torrance  came  a  little 
later,  he  looked  at  her  with  marked  approval.  Daniel 
Brydon  and  he  were  very  different  men,  and  he  recog- 
nised at  once  that  Margaret  was  wearing  a  new  gown, 
and  that  she  was  looking  years  younger.  But  he  never 
thought  of  telling  her  so,  though  he  found  some  pleasure 
in  watching  her.  "  That  colour  exactly  suits  her,"  he 
said  to  himself. 

In  future  days  Margaret  often  looked  back  on  that 
evening  as  one  of  the  red  letter  days  of  her  existence. 

It  was  not  only  that  she  delighted  in  playing  the 
hostess  to  her  brother  and  her  dear  old  friend,  but  she 
was  conscious  of  a  greater  softness  in  Henry  Torrance's 
manner  to  her.  He  looked  well,  and  in  better  spirits, 
and  he  evidently  enjoyed  Daniel  Bry don's  society.  .Never 
had  a  meal  at  the  Garden  House  been  more  cheerful, 
and  as  they  sat  in  the  Madeira  Walk  in  the  soft  obscurity 
of  the  summer  night,  with  the  moon  rising  behind  the 
trees,  the  two  men  still  talked  on  with  undiminished 
enjoyment,  and  Margaret  sat  beside  her  brother  and 
listened  tranquilly. 

"  Why,  Peggy,  how  quiet  you  are,"  observed  Daniel 
presently ;  "  Torrance  and  I  are  monopolising  all  the 
talk.  What  has  become  of  the  little  girls  ? "  For 
Maureen  and  Irene  had  vanished,  like  the  Snark,  "  softly 
and  suddenly  away." 

"  Shall  I  go  and  look  for  them  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Torrance. 
"  I  don't  think  they  are  far  away,  for  I  heard  their  voices 
just  now." 

"No,  thanks;  please  don't  trouble.     I  have  just  re- 


206  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

membered  something  I  ought  to  have  asked  Irene,  and 
I  would  rather  go  myself " ;  and  Daniel  hurried  away 
in  pursuit  of  his  girls.  A  moment  later  they  heard  the 
three  voices  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall. 

"  What  a  nice  fellow  your  brother  is,"  observed  Mr. 
Torrance.  "  I  like  him  better  every  time  I  see  him.  I 
don't  wonder  you  are  so  devoted  to  him." 

"  No;  he  has  been  a  dear  brother  to  me  all  my  life. 
I  think  even  you  do  not  know  how  good  he  is.  I  have 
always  been  so  proud  of  belonging  to  him  and  being  his 
sister.  I  have  told  you  this  before,  have  I  not,  Henry  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  do  not  mind  hearing  it  again,  you  know. 
I  have  never  had  a  sister ;  if  I  had,  I  should  have  wished 
her  to  be  like  you." 

Henry  Torrance's  voice  was  so  kind  that  Margaret 
gave  a  little  involuntary  sigh  of  pleasure.  She  always 
garnered  these  speeches  in  the  storehouse  of  her  memory. 
They  meant  so  much  to  her. 

"  It  is  nice  of  you  to  say  that,"  she  returned,  in  the 
calm,  sisterly  tone  that  had  so  often  consoled  him  in  dark 
hours ;  "  and  until  Daniel  married,  I  used  to  long  for  a 
sister  myself,  but  Anna  is  so  kind  and  sympathetic  that 
she  makes  up  for  a  great  deal." 

Henry  Torrance  never  knew  why  Margaret's  quiet 
speech  seemed  to  rebuke  him ;  but  something  prompted 
him  to  say  hastily,  "  I  don't  think  I  have  any  cause  for 
complaint,  for  you  have  been  more  like  a  sister  to  me 
than  a  friend,  Margaret.  Forgive  me,  my  dear,  if  I 
seemed  to  ignore  that  What  should  I  have  done  with- 
out you  all  these  years !  " 

In  the  darkness  Margaret's  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
but  in  her  heart  there  was  exceeding  peace.  Out  of 
her  wrecked  hopes  she  had  at  least  saved  one  precious 
certainty,  that  she  was  absolutely  necessary  to  the  man 
she  held  so  dear.  Well,  she  was  no  longer  young — at 
least  the  hot  passions  of  youth  and  its  fierce  monopolies 
had  ceased  to  trouble  her.  The  discipline  of  life  had 
chastened  her,  and  she  no  longer  made  such  large 


"The  Man's  a  Fool"  207 

demands  on  it ;  she  was  content,  yes,  truly  content,  to 
be  his  sister-friend.  "  When  he  wants  me,  I  am  always 
ready  to  give  him  what  he  needs.  I  have  never  failed 
him.  I  never  shall  as  long  as  I  am  a  living  woman  " ; 
for  that  night  Margaret  was  in  one  of  her  exalted  moods, 
and  nothing  seemed  impossible. 

Daniel  was  coming  toward  them  with  a  girl  hanging 
on  either  arm;  they  were  all  laughing  together.  Then 
Henry  Torrance  put  his  hand  gently  on  Margaret's. 
"  You  are  very  silent.  Have  I  hurt  you  in  any  way, 
Margaret  ?  "  But  he  need  not  have  asked  that  question. 

"  Hurt  me !  no,  a  thousand  times.  What  could  have 
put  that  in  your  head?  I  never  misunderstand  you, 
Henry ;  we  are  far  too  good  friends  and  comrades."  And 
then  Margaret  drew  her  hand  gently  away;  and  Henry 
Torrance,  reassured  by  her  tone  of  frank  sincerity,  soon 
forgot  his  momentary  uneasiness. 

Margaret  was  unusually  cheerful  the  remainder  of 
the  evening.  She  and  Daniel  told  stories  of  their  child- 
hood, and  afterwards  Henry  Torrance  related  a  thrilling 
episode  in  his  own  business  life,  connected  with  a  house 
which  was  supposed  to  be  haunted.  Margaret,  who  had 
never  heard  it,  was  as  much  absorbed  as  the  girls,  and 
by  the  time  it  was  finished,  Daniel  declared  the  dews  were 
falling,  and  that  they  must  all  go  in. 

Margaret  never  slept  better  than  she  did  that  night, 
or  woke  more  happily  to  the  new  day.  It  was  Daniel 
Brydon  whose  thoughts  kept  him  wakeful. 

"  It  is  a  bit  puzzling,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  must 
talk  to  Anna  and  see  what  she  makes  of  it;  but  I 
have  always  had  my  doubts,  and  they  are  stronger  than 
ever  to-night.  Torrance  is  a  nice  fellow,  upright  and 
manly,  and,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  sound  to  the  core; 
but  he  is  somehow  making  a  mess  of  his  life. 

"  If  he  cared  less  for  Margaret  one  would  not  say  so 
much,  but  he  seems  quite  wrapped  up  in  her  and  she 
in  him,  and  they  call  it  friendship — an  odd  sort  of  friend- 
ship !  But  old  Peggy  seems  as  happy  as  possible.  Why 


208  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

does  not  Torrance  see  that  he  would  do  far  better  for 
himself  if  he  could  induce  her  to  marry  him?  Margaret 
would  not  refuse  him,  I  would  lay  any  wager  on  that. 
She  has  been  in  love  with  him  the  last  fourteen  years, 
only  she  calls  it  friendship.  Somehow  Peggy,  in  spite 
of  her  forty-seven  years,  is  only  a  big-hearted  child,  bless 
her.  What  a  wife  she  would  make !  My  Anna  always 
says  so.  But  the  man's  a  fool,"  continued  Daniel,  in 
an  irritated  tone.  "  One  day  he  will  find  out  how  he  has 
muddled  things,  and  then  it  will  be  too  late."  For 
Daniel  Brydon,  honest  man,  could  only  judge  according 
to  his  lights,  and  Platonic  friendships  were  not  in  his 
line.  For  in  this  workaday  world  of  ours,  with  its  green 
grass  and  nettles,  its  dropping  roses  and  its  shadows,  it 
is  only  the  children  of  the  kingdom  "  who  dream  dreams, 
and  see  visions." 


XXIII 

SUNNY  HOURS 

Come  out,  come  out,  from  the  dusty  city, 
And  roam  in  the  wild  wood's  shady  ways. 
The  sun  is  mounting  (the  more's  the  pity), 
Not  long  the  freshness  or  fragrance  stays. 

Midst  soft  airs  blowing, 

With   hearts  o'erflowing, 
Thank  God,  thank  God,  for  such  summer  days. 

HELEN  MARION  BURNSIDE. 

"  Do  you  know  what  a  funny  idea  has  just  come  into 
my  head,  Aunt  Maggie?  I  think  living  with  you  gives 
me  ideas — they  must  be  catching,  for  I  never  used  to 
be  so  clever";  and  Maureen  looked  absurdly  proud  of 
herself. 

Margaret  shook  her  head  in  a  tolerant  way.  She 
was  busy  over  her  accounts,  and  her  task  was  irksome 
to  her,  and  at  that  moment  she  was  quite  ready  to  endorse 
the  Wise  King's  statement,  "  That  there  was  a  time  to 
be  silent  and  a  time  to  speak." 

"  I  advise  you  not  to  stand  there  chattering  or  you 
will  be  late,"  she  observed,  more  curtly  than  usual. 

But  Maureen  was  irrepressible.  "  Oh,  but  you  must 
hear  my  idea  first;  it  will  just  suit  your  philosophical 
mind.  I  think  life  is  exactly  like  a  see-saw — *  Here  we 
go  up  and  here  we  go  down/  as  Trotty  Veck  said;  and 
it  is  true." 

Margaret  laid  down  her  pen  in  a  resigned  fashion; 
she  hated  to  be  interrupted. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  that  is  original,"  she  said 
severely.  "  I  believe  that  I  have  made  that  remark  my- 
self a  score  of  times.  Oh,  what  a  silly  little  girl  you 
are !  "  as  Maureen  burst  out  laughing  and  gave  her  a 
hug.  "  But  seriously,  Maureen,  if  you  are  not  quick 

14  S09 


210  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

you  will  miss  the  omnibus,  and  then  you  will  have  to 
walk  all  the  way.  Besides,  I  am  busy,  and  you  are 
hindering  me."  And  at  this  plain  statement  Maureen 
gave  her  a  penitent  kiss  and  hurried  away. 

"  I  was  rather  hard  on  her,"  thought  Margaret, 
remorsefully,  as  she  took  up  her  pen  again.  "  Dear 
child,  how  happy  she  is ;  and  she  was  right,  too,  about 
the  ups  and  downs  of  life.  Three  weeks  ago  we  were 
feeling  as  flat  as  possible  after  bidding  dear  Dan  and 
Irene  good-bye,  and  now  Maureen  is  so  excited  that  she 
hardly  knows  whether  she  is  standing  on  her  head  or 
her  heels  because  Harold  is  coming.  But  there,  I  must 
get  rid  of  these  horrid  accounts  by  tea-time,  or  I  shall 
not  be  ready  to  welcome  him."  And  then  Margaret  set 
to  work  so  energetically  that  she  had  cleared  away  all 
traces  of  her  labours  long  before  the  expected  guest 
arrived. 

"  Harold,  you  are  far  too  thin,"  were  Margaret's  first 
words  as  she  greeted  her  nephew  affectionately;  but 
privately  she  thought  that  he  had  grown  better-looking 
than  ever. 

"  Oh,  he  is  quite  well,"  interrupted  Maureen ;  "  only 
the  last  week  has  been  so  hot  in  London,  and  he  has 
worked  so  hard  and  needs  his  holiday." 

"  And  I  mean  to  make  the  most  of  it,"  returned 
Harold  in  a  tone  of  deep  enjoyment.  "  Just  fancy,  Aunt 
Margaret,  three  whole  weeks  and  two  days  of  absolute 
idleness.  Now,  may  I  get  rid  of  some  of  this  dust  ?  " 
And  as  Margaret  nodded,  Maureen  volunteered  to  show 
him  his  room ;  but  she  soon  came  back  again. 

"  Harold  is  so  pleased  with  everything,"  she 
exclaimed,  breathlessly.  "He  will  not  be  long,  because 
he  says  he  is  as  hungry  as  a  hunter.  I  told  him  about 
our  invitation  to  Marsh  Hall  for  to-morrow  afternoon." 
For  Ruth  had  invited  Miss  Brydon  and  Maureen  to  have 
tea  with  her,  and  Margaret  had  asked  her  permission  to 
bring  her  nephew. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  could  not  come  without  him,"  she 


Sunny  Hours  211 

had  added;  and  Ruth  had  agreed  to  it  without  any 
hesitation. 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure  if  Romney  will  be  at  home," 
she  continued.  "  But  perhaps  when  he  knows  your 
nephew  is  coming  he  will  stay  in."  But  Margaret 
begged  that  no  difference  should  be  made  on  Harold's 
account. 

"  Perhaps  we  had  better  come  some  other  afternoon, 
Ruth ;  for  I  could  not  expect  Maureen  to  leave  her 
brother  the  first  day."  But  Ruth  would  not  hear  of  this. 

"  No ;  you  must  all  three  come.  What  does  it  matter 
if  Romney  is  out?  But  I  think,  I  am  sure,  he  will  do 
his  best  to  stay  at  home.  Remember  how  little  I  have 
seen  of  you  the  last  fortnight." 

This  was  true,  and  Maureen  had  grumbled  about  it 
a  good  deal.  Ruth  had  been  much  engaged.  Her  cousin 
Percival  had  invited  himself  for  a  week-end,  and  his 
visit  had  lengthened  into  ten  days.  Maureen  had  been 
introduced  to  him  one  afternoon  at  Gayton  Lodge,  and 
had  played  a  set  of  tennis  against  him  and  Ruth. 

"  He  is  decidedly  handsome,"  she  told  Margaret 
afterwards,  "  and  has  pleasant  manners ;  but  he  has  a 
very  good  opinion  of  himself.  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
altogether  like  him.  He  rather  patronises  Ruth ;  and 
he  ordered  her  about  as  though  she  belonged  to  him." 

"  Oh,  Ruth  is  just  one  of  themselves." 

"  Well,  he  wasn't  exactly  brotherly,"  returned 
Maureen.  "  He  seemed  determined  to  monopolise  her. 
Jenny  noticed  it  too,  for  she  asked  me  if  they  were 
engaged ;  but  of  course  I  told  her  they  were  not." 

Margaret  looked  a  little  grave.  "  I  hope  Percival 
Chaytor  has  no  idea  of  that  kind,"  she  returned,  quickly. 
"I  have  a  rooted  objection  to  first  cousins  marrying; 
and  in  any  case,  Ruth  could  do  much  better  for  herself. 
From  all  I  hear  he  is  an  ordinary  society  young  man, 
pleasure-loving,  and  not  too  fond  of  work,  though 
unobjectionable  in  other  ways." 

"  Rather     lukewarm     praise,"     returned     Maureen, 


212  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

smiling.  "  The  Brant  girls  seem  to  admire  him  tremen- 
dously. Ruth  complained  to  me  that  they  had  been 
invited  to  dine  at  Gayton  Lodge,  and  to  play  tennis 
on  two  other  afternoons.  '  I  tried  to  get  out  of  it,'  she 
went  on,  '  but  Percy  seems  to  like  them,  though  I  cannot 
induce  him  to  go  to  the  Rectory.  It  is  no  use  Miss 
Brydon  asking  us,  for  we  have  not  a  disengaged  after- 
noon. But  I  will  make  up  for  it  when  Percy  has  gone.' ' 

"  I  hope  Harold  does  not  object  to  the  Marsh  Hall 
invitation  ?  "  asked  Margaret. 

"  Oh  no,  I  think  he  is  rather  pleased ;  my  descriptions 
have  excited  his  curiosity.  But  he  wants  to  have  a  dip 
in  the  sea  to-morrow  morning,  so  I  expect  we  shall  go 
over  to  St.  Quintin.  I  want  Harold  to  do  all  the  things 
he  likes.  That  is  why  I  hope  Mr.  Chaytor  will  be  at 
home  to-morrow,  and  then  perhaps  he  will  invite  him 
to  go  motoring  with  him." 

At  this  moment  Harold  joined  them,  looking  as 
trim  and  fresh  as  possible,  and  they  went  into  the  garden. 

Maureen's  hopes  were  destined  to  be  disappointed 
the  next  day,  for  as  the  three  walked  up  the  drive 
towards  Marsh  Hall,  Ruth  came  through  the  rose-cov- 
ered arch  to  welcome  them.  She  was  the  bearer  of  her 
brother's  excuses. 

"  Romney  is  so  very  sorry,"  she  said,  addressing 
Harold,  "  but  he  could  not  break  his  engagement  with 
Mr.  Whitworth.  He  promised  some  days  ago  to  drive 
him  to  Chillingford.  They  will  not  be  back  until  quite 
late  in  the  evening." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  have  some  other  opportunity  of 
making  your  brother's  acquaintance,"  returned  Harold, 
quietly. 

Ruth  had  spoken  a  little  shyly.  The  good-looking 
young  man  with  the  clear-cut  face  and  pince-nez  seemed 
a  little  formidable  to  her  at  first.  But  perhaps  not  one 
of  the  little  party  guessed  what  a  revelation  Ruth  herself 
was  to  Harold  Brydon.  He  had  taken  his  sister's  descrip- 
tions of  her  new  friend  in  his  usual  cool  fashion.  "  Girls 


Sunny  Hours  213 

always  gushed  over  each  other,"  he  thought.  Very  likely 
she  was  a  pretty  little  thing.  But  during  his  Oxford 
days  he  had  seen  heaps  of  pretty  girls,  and  had  not  lost 
his  heart  to  any  of  them.  So  he  was  disposed  to  be 
rather  critical  and  stand-offish  on  his  first  introduction. 
The  graceful  figure  in  the  white  gown,  and  the  beautiful 
little  face  under  the  poppy  hat,  rather  took  his  breath 
away.  Maureen  was  right  for  once.  Miss  Chaytor  was 
distinctly  pretty ;  in  fact,  he  had  never  seen  any  one  like 
her.  And  Harold  smiled  in  quite  a  nice  way  as  he 
answered  her,  and  his  look  somehow  put  Ruth  at  her  ease 
at  once. 

"  Ruth,  dear,"  exclaimed  Maureen,  as  they  all  walked 
towards  Shady  Nook,  "  it  is  quite  early,  and  it  will  not 
be  tea-time  for  another  half  hour.  I  wonder  if  you 
would  take  Harold  to  see  the  library.  I  have  told  him 
so  much  about  it." 

"  Maureen  has  '  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer,'  "  observed 
Harold.  "  The  amount  of  paper  she  uses  in  a  week 
would  last  some  girls  for  a  month.  But  her  descriptions 
of  Marsh  Hall  have  certainly  interested  me." 

"  Oh,  you  shall  see  anything  you  like,"  returned 
Ruth,  in  a  friendly  voice.  "  Miss  Brydon,  I  hope  you 
intend  to  come  with  us." 

But  Margaret  shook  her  head.  The  young  people 
might  go  by  themselves,  she  returned.  She  would  rather 
sit  in  the  shade  and  read  the  paper.  They  would  want 
her  to  go  up  on  the  roof,  and  she  had  no  yearnings  for 
ladder-like  stairs  and  wide  horizons.  "  I  must  be  get- 
ting old  and  lazy,"  she  said,  serenely ;  "  but  you  have 
no  idea  what  a  nice  feeling  it  is." 

"  Oh,  come  along,  Entre-nous ! "  interrupted 
Maureen.  "  Aunt  Maggie  is  incorrigible  when  she  is  in 
this  mood."  But  Ruth,  who  was  hanging  over  her,  ar- 
ranging cushions  and  footstool,  would  not  be  hurried 
away  until  her  guest  was  quite  comfortable. 

"  I  am  sure  your  aunt  is  tired,"  she  said,  confidentially 
to  Harold.  "  She  is  never  lazy,  and  as  to  feeling  old, 


214  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

she  is  the  youngest  of  us  all — is  she  not,  Maureen?  I 
think,"  continued  Ruth,  with  one  of  her  charming  smiles, 
"  that  I  admire  her  more  every  time  I  see  her." 

"  Oh,  she  is  a  good  sort,"  returned  Harold,  with  his 
customary  brevity,  but  there  was  a  glow  of  pleasure  on 
his  face,  for  all  the  household  at  the  Homestead  were 
devoted  to  Margaret. 

After  this  the  young  people  became  very  sociable 
together.  Ruth  showed  them  not  only  the  library  and 
the  dining-room,  but  her  private  sanctum,  and  Harold 
insisted  on  trying  all  the  window-seats;  but  when  they 
went  up  to  the  roof  he  was  quite  as  enraptured  as 
Maureen  had  been. 

"  What  a  view !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  If  I  were  your 
brother,  Miss  Chaytor,  I  should  spend  most  of  my  time 
up  here." 

"  Oh  no,  Romney  never  comes  now.  He  finds  the 
steps  so  trying.  He  is  so  dreadfully  lame,  you  know," 
continued  Ruth  in  a  lower  voice,"  and  it  is  all  owing  to 
me." 

Maureen  had  left  them  for  a  moment,  and  Harold 
was  leaning  on  the  parapet.  He  had  taken  off  his  straw 
hat;  as  Ruth  said  this  he  turned  round  to  her. 

"  Yes ;  I  remember  all  about  the  accident.  Aunt 
Margaret  told  us.  He  carried  you  out  of  the  burning 
house.  It  was  a  fine  thing  for  him  to  do  at  his  age. 
One  is  rather  tempted  to  envy  than  to  pity  him  " ;  and 
Harold  spoke  with  such  evident  appreciation  of  her 
brother's  heroism  that  Ruth's  momentary  sadness 
vanished. 

Margaret  had  to  wait  some  time  for  her  tea  that 
afternoon,  but  she  took  Ruth's  apologies  very  good- 
naturedly,  and  they  were  all  as  merry  as  possible.  When 
they  left,  Ruth  and  Maisie  walked  with  them  as  far 
as  the  Rectory,  and  Margaret  arranged  that  she  should 
come  over  for  tennis  the  following  afternoon. 

"  As  you  are  all  going  to  the  Brants  on  Tuesday,  and 
you  have  seen  so  much  of  them  lately,  I  will  not  ask 


Sunny  Hours  215 

either  Hermione  or  Jenny  to  make  a  fourth,  but  we 
might  as  well  invite  Mary  Armytage.  You  and  Maureen 
both  like  her,  and  she  plays  rather  well." 

"Who  is  Miss  Armytage?"  asked  Harold,  when 
Ruth  had  turned  in  to  the  Rectory.  "  I  don't  think  you 
ever  mentioned  her  in  your  letters,  Maureen." 

"  No ;  she  has  only  just  seen  her,"  explained  Mar- 
garet. "  Mary  has  been  away  from  Branksmere  now 
since  February.  She  is  a  nice  little  unassuming  person, 
not  very  young,  and  certainly  not  very  good-looking; 
but  we  all  have  a  great  respect  for  her.  She  lives  with 
her  aunt  and  uncle  in  the  Mill  House;  they  are  worthy 
people,  and  have  known  better  days.  Mary  has  rather 
a  dull  life,  poor  girl.  Mr.  Armytage  is  partially 
paralysed,  and  his  sight  is  affected.  Mary  is  very  good 
to  him,  and  a  perfect  drudge  in  the  house ;  so  I  like 
to  give  her  as  much  change  as  possible." 

"  Aunt  Margaret  actually  told  me  one  day  that  Mary 
Armytage  was  a  disguised  angel,"  returned  Maureen. 
"  Oh  yes,  you  did,  dear,"  as  Margaret  frowned  at  this 
statement.  " '  If  one  could  only  see  her  wings/  you 
added.  And  when  a  sandy-haired,  freckled  little  person, 
with  a  '  prunes  and  prisms '  sort  of  voice,  came  into  the 
room,  I  confess  that  I  was  rather  disillusioned ;  but  I 
liked  her  better  when  we  called  at  the  Mill  House." 

"  I  never  remember  my  own  speeches,"  confessed 
Margaret ;  "  but  I  certainly  consider  Mary  Armytage 
one  of  the  best  little  women  I  know.  So  if  you  do  not 
mind,  Harold,  I  will  send  a  note  to  the  Mill  House  after 
supper." 

"  By  all  means,"  acquiesced  her  nephew.  "  If  the 
'  angel '  plays  tennis  decently,  we  will  put  up  with  the 
sandy  hair  and  the  freckles.  If  you  will  write  the  note, 
Aunt  Margaret,  I  will  take  it  with  the  greatest  pleasure; 
and  if  Maureen  likes  she  may  come  with  me."  But 
Entre-nous'  eyes  twinkled,  for  he  was  quite  sure  of 
Maureen's  answer. 

"  We  saw  Miss  Armytage  for  a  moment,"  announced 


216  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Harold,  on  their  return ;  "  and  she  seemed  uncommonly 
pleased  with  the  invitation — says  she  will  turn  up  sharp 
at  the  time  mentioned." 

"  Did  you  think  her  so  very  plain  ?  "  Then  Harold 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Well,  one  could  not  call  her  handsome,"  he  returned 
rather  reluctantly,  for  he  never  liked  to  disparage  other 
people's  friends.  "  I  don't  know  about  the  angel,"  he 
had  said  to  Maureen,  as  they  left  the  Mill  House ;  "  but 
it  is  jolly  well  disguised.  She  is  a  Dutch-built,  homely 
little  person."  But  to  himself  he  added,  "  What  a  foil 
to  Miss  Chaytor." 

After  all,  Mary  Armytage  proved  a  success.  In  spite 
of  her  square,  Dutch-built  figure,  she  showed  remarkable 
agility;  and  Harold,  who  had  secured  Ruth  for  his 
partner,  had  some  difficulty  in  winning  his  game. 
Maureen,  too,  was  a  better  player  than  Ruth. 

"  Just  saved  by  a  fluke ! "  observed  Harold,  tri- 
umphantly, as  he  turned  to  his  partner.  "  But  it  was 
a  near  thing." 

"  Yes,  and  I  played  so  badly,  and  missed  so  many 
balls,"  returned  Ruth,  penitently.  But  Harold  refused 
to  endorse  this. 

"  The  grand  thing  is  that  we  won  the  final  round, 
and  now  they  will  expect  their  revenge." 

"  Yes,  and  I  will  try  to  do  better  this  time  " — very 
sweetly.  "  But  Miss  Armytage  does  play  so  well." 

"  She  must  have  had  lots  of  practice,  you  see." 

"  I  do  not  know  about  that.  The  Brants  never  seem 
to  invite  her  to  their  garden  parties.  But  she  told  me 
once  that  Thora  often  asked  her  to  come  in  and  practise 
with  her  in  the  morning,  and  that  she  would  miss  her 
very  much  when  she  married  and  left  Branksmere.  Thora 
is  the  cousin  who  lives  with  the  Brants." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  the  mannish  young  lady."  And 
Ruth  nodded,  and  then  they  took  their  places.  But  alas 
for  his  modest  expectation !  fate  was  against  them,  and 
they  were  ignominiously  beaten.  Maureen  waved  her 


Sunny  Hours  217 

racquet,  and  fairly  danced  up  to  the  tea-table  where 
Margaret  was  sitting. 

"  We  have  won,  Aunt  Maggie.  Mary  Armytage  is 
a  brick;  she  scarcely  missed  a  ball.  Harold  was  rather 
handicapped  by  his  partner.  Ruth  can  play  very  well, 
but  she  loses  her  nerve  at  times.  Oh,  I  am  so  tired !  " 
— sinking  into  a  chair — "  but  I  never  enjoyed  a  game 
more.  Doesn't  Harold  look  nice  in  his  clean  white 
flannels  ?  " 

A  final  sett  was  to  be  played  after  tea,  and  when 
the  girls  were  rested,  but  Harold  absolutely  refused  any 
exchange  of  partners.  And  Ruth  dimpled  and  looked 
pleased. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  afternoon  Mr.  Torrance 
strolled  in,  but  he  would  not  accept  Margaret's  invita- 
tion to  stay  for  supper,  though  he  did  not  refuse  a  cup 
of  freshly-made  tea. 

"  Why  are  you  not  playing  ?  "  he  asked,  as  Margaret 
placed  some  cucumber  sandwiches  beside  him. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  it  was  my  usual  laziness,"  was  the 
answer.  "  These  warm  afternoons  I  prefer  to  sit  and 
work  or  read.  Look  at  those  two  girls,  Henry;  did 
you  ever  see  such  a  contrast?  Poor  Mary  is  playing 
splendidly,  but  her  awkwardness  makes  one  squirm,  and 
Ruth  moves  as  lightly  as  a  fairy." 

"  She  is  certainly  a  very  attractive  little  person.  That 
good-looking  nephew  of  yours  will  have  to  take  care. 
I  fancy,  from  something  Chaytor  said  to  me  the  other 
day,  that  that  cousin  of  his  is  in  love  with  her." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not,"  returned  Margaret,  hastily. 

"  Well,  I  did  not  think  much  of  him  myself,  but  it 
struck  me  that  Chaytor  rather  approved  than  otherwise. 
'  Percy  plays  the  giddy  goat,  sometimes,'  he  observed, 
'  but  he  is  a  good  fellow,  and  will  settle  down  all  right ; 
so  it  would  not  be  a  bad  thing.'  Remember  this  is  only 
between  you  and  me,  and  it  must  not  go  farther." 

"  No,  of  course  not ;  but  all  the  same  I  don't  believe 


218  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Ruth  cares  for  her  cousin,  though  I  daresay  it  would  be 
a  good  thing-  for  him." 

But  a  vague  feeling  of  uneasiness  crossed  Margaret's 
mind.  It  was  nonsense,  but  she  almost  wished  she  could 
give  Harold  a  hint.  Young  men  were  so  proverbially 
reckless ;  they  rushed  into  danger  with  their  eyes  open. 
Ruth  was  so  very  pretty — such  an  engaging  little 
creature.  Was  it  wise  for  Harold  to  see  too  much  of 
her?  And  yet,  how  was  it  to  be  helped?  She  and 
Maureen  had  become  such  friends,  they  could  hardly  be 
kept  apart.  Already  she  had  overheard  plans  for  a 
beach  morning.  Idleness  and  propinquity,  pleasant  com- 
panionship, and  summer  days  are  powerful  factors  in  the 
making  of  circumstances  when  one  is  young. 

"  If  the  poor  boy  were  to  take  a  fancy  to  her,"  she 
thought,  "  Harold  has  very  deep  feelings,  and  he  does 
nothing  by  halves.  Ruth  is  quite  an  heiress  in  her  way. 
The  Chaytors  would  expect  her  to  marry  well." 

"  Why  are  you  knitting  your  brows,  Margaret,  in 
that  perplexed  way?  If  you  are  trying  to  solve  a 
problem  you  had  better  have  my  help." 

But  Margaret  shook  her  head  with  her  old  sunshiny 
smile.  After  all,  it  was  not  for  her  to  play  Providence 
or  to  give  her  imagination  such  licence.  A  moment 
before  she  had  been  inclined  to  regret  her  kindly-meant 
hospitality  to  her  nephew  for  fear  of  disastrous  conse- 
quences, but  now  she  was  disposed  to  laugh  and  call 
herself  an  anxious-minded  old  maid.  "  Just  as  though 
the  boy  has  not  seen  scores  of  pretty  girls  during  his 
undergraduate  days,"  she  said  to  herself  with  comfort- 
able assurance.  ' 


XXIV 

"HAROLD  SAYS  IT  IS  ALL  RIGHT" 

Finish  every  day  and  be  done  with  it ;  you  have  done  what 
you  could.  Some  blunders  and  absurdities  no  doubt  crept  in ; 
forget  them  as  soon  as  you  can.  To-morrow  is  a  new  day; 
begin  it  well  arid  serenely,  and  with  too  high  a  spirit  to  be 
cumbered  with  your  old  nonsense.  To-day  all  is  good  and  fair. 
It  is  too  dear,  with  its  hopes  and  invitations,  to  waste  a  moment 
on  the  yesterdays. — EMERSON. 

MARGARET'S  bright  philosophy  soon  triumphed  over 
fears,  and  though  she  wished  more  than  once  that  Henry 
Torrance  had  not  put  the  idea  into  her  head,  it  certainly 
had  one  good  effect ;  for  it  roused  her  to  a  sense  of  her 
duties  as  a  chaperon,  and  made  her  less  casual.  It  was 
clearly  impossible  to  keep  Maureen  and  Ruth  apart  when, 
as  she  observed  once,  they  fitted  exactly  like  a  pair  of 
gloves.  But  she  took  care  to  be  included  in  the  beach 
party  if  Ruth  had  been  asked  to  join  them.  She  also 
eased  her  mind  by  explaining  the  situation  to  Daniel 
when  she  wrote  her  weekly  letter. 

"  The  young  people  are  enjoying  themselves  tremendously," 
she  wrote,  "  and  the  weather  is  so  fine — I  really  do  not  remem- 
ber such  a  summer  at  Branksmere — that  they  are  out  from 
morning  to  night.  We  have  all  our  meals  on  the  little  lawn 
by  the  house;  that  was  Harold's  idea.  The  old  round  table 
that  was  put  away  in  the  lumber-room  has  been  brought  out 
to  our  acacia  dining-room,  as  we  call  it.  It  is  so  near  the  ser- 
vants' quarters  that  it  gives  them  very  little  trouble ;  but  we 
have  our  supper  so  late  that  we  are  obliged  to  have  a  lamp 
before  we  have  finished,  and  then  the  poor  moths  come  and 
dash  their  foolish  selves  against  the  light.  Last  night  Harold 
had  to  put  an  end  to  four  scorched  sufferers.  We  see  a  good 
deal  of  our  little  friend  Ruth ;  she  and  Maureen  are  inseparable. 
Of  couse  Harold  admires  her  immensely ;  no  young  man  with 
eyes  in  his  head  could  help  it.  But  with  my  usual  tact  and 
good  sense — dear  me,  what  does  that  '  humph '  mean,  Dan  ? — 

219 


220  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

I  have  hinted  that  an  heiress  is  not  for  the  like  of  him.  But 
Harold  is  a  cautious  young  man ;  he  is  not  disposed  to  follow 
the  example  of  the  moths,  and  does  not  mean  to  disregard  the 
danger-signals.  '  Look  before  you  leap,  and  don't  cremate 
yourself  before  your  time,'  he  remarked  feelingly  to  the  grey 
fluttering  thing  in  his  hand  last  night.  But  there  we  will  draw 
a  veil.  I  never  could  be  in  at  the  death. 

"  I  am  glad  to  say  that  Mr.  Chaytor  waited  to  speak  to  us 
after  Church  on  Sunday,  and  was  very  nice  and  friendly.  The 
day  before  yesterday  he  took  Harold  for  a  long  motor  excursion. 
They  started  soon  after  breakfast,  and  never  turned  up  until 
nearly  ten  at  night.  I  confess  I  was  a  bit  anxious ;  but  Ruth, 
who  was  spending  the  day  with  us,  reassured  me  by  saying 
that  her  brother  expected  to  be  late.  You  never  saw  such  a 
dusty  object  as  Harold  presented;  and  when  Maureen  asked 
him  if  he  had  a  good  time  he  returned,  '  Tipping ! '  I  should 
just  think  so.  And  if 'there  is  any  of  that  cider  handy,  Aunt 
Peg '  And  Maureen  flew  off  to  act  Ganymede. 

" '  How  I  wish  Mr.  Chaytor  would  take  me  too ! '  she  ob- 
served in  rather  a  longing  voice  when  Harold  related  his  day's 
adventures.  They  had  been  a  hundred  miles,  and  done  all 
kinds  of  queer  out-of-the-way  things. 

" '  The  Viking  is  the  best  fellow  in  the  world  when  you 
come  to  know  him.  We  got  on  like  a  house  on  fire.'  But  there, 
Harold  can  tell  you  the  rest  himself.  Dear  me,  here  comes 
Maureen,  like  Monsieur  Le  Beau,  '  with  her  mouth  full  of 
news.  Now  shall  we  be  news-crammed.'  Steady  and  deliver, 
little  girl !  Ta,  ta,  for  the  present.  I  shall  probably  add  a 
postscript." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Margaret,  are  you  busy?"  with  rather  a 
crest-fallen  glance  at  the  blotting-pad.  "  I  don't  want  to 
interrupt  you,  but  there  is  something'  I  must  tell  you." 

"  I  was  only  writing  to  your  father,  and  have  just 
finshed;  so,  '  prithee,  take  the  cork  out  of -thy  mouth  that 
I  may  drink  thy  tidings.'  " 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Maggie,  how  funny  you  are.  That's 
Shakespeare,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  As  You  Like  It.  Now,  then,  let  me  hear  what 
you  have  to  say?"  But  Maureen,  who*  had  only  just 
recovered  her  breath,  needed  no  encouragement. 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  delightful !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Mr. 
Chaytor  has  asked  me  to  go  with  them  to  Chillingford 


"Harold  Says  it  is  All  Right"          221 

to-morrow.  Ruth  says  she  proposed  it,  because  she 
knew  how  much  I  should  like  it.  But  Mr.  Chaytor 
seemed  quite  pleased,  and  sent  me  such  a  nice  message." 

"  I  am  not  to  be  included,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Why,  no,  Aunt  Margaret ;  the  motor  only  holds 
four." 

"And  Harold  approves  of  the  plan?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  he  is  delighted.  He  told  me  to  tell  you 
that  he  had  arranged  everything,  and  that  it  was  all 
right,  and  that  he  would  look  after  us  and  pick  up  the 
pieces." 

"  Shall  I  put  that  in  the  postscript?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  like.  It  will  make  father  laugh.  But 
just  listen  to  me  first,  for  I  have  not  half  finished.  We 
are  to  start  quite  early,  before  the  sun  gets  hot,  because 
Mr.  Chaytor  has  to  go  first  to  Braile,  which  is  some 
miles  farther  on.  He  has  some  house  property  there, 
and  he  wants  to  see  the  agent;  but  he  says  we  shall 
have  plenty  of  time  to  see  Chillingford  Church  before 
luncheon.  He  will  put  up  his  motor  and  wait  for  us 
at  the  Grey-Hound.  There  is  a  regular  table  d'hote  at 
one.  Ruth  says  that  it  is  such  a  delightfully  quaint  old 
place,  and  that  she  will  get  some  one  to-  take  us  over 
it.  Then  we  are  to  do  the  town,  and  go  back  for  tea, 
and  Mr.  Chaytor  promised  to  bring  us  home  in  good 
time  for  supper.  Aunt  Maggie  " — rather  hesitatingly, 
"  Harold  thinks  that  it  would  be  rather  nice  if  you  were 
to  invite  them  both.  Ruth  only  said  yesterday  that  she 
was  sure  her  brother  would  enjoy  our  al  fresco 
suppers." 

"  Well,  I  have  no  objection,  Maureen,  and  I  have 
got  some  rather  good  claret  in  the  cellar.  Dickson  is 
very  clever  at  supper  dishes.  Shall  I  send  a  note  to 
Ruth  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  please  do,  Aunt  Margaret ;  and  if  you  send 
it  soon,  the  bearer  can  wait  for  a  verbal  answer,  for 
Mr.  Chaytor  is  not  going  out  before  luncheon." 

"  I  thought  Harold  would  have  taken  it." 


222  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  No;  he  has  gone  down  to  St.  Quintin  to  bathe;  lie 
says  the  tide  is  just  right." 

"  Never  mind ;  I  daresay  one  of  the  maids  can  take 
it."  And  Margaret  good-naturedly  dashed  off  her  note, 
while  Maureen  flew  off  to  find  a.  messenger.  Margaret 
smiled  as  she  added  her  postscript : 

"  My  young  people  are  going  on  a  motor  expedition  with 
the  Chaytors  to-morrow.  They  are  going  to  Chillingford  for 
the  day,  and  will  have  luncheon  at  the  Grey  Hound.  Do  you 
remember  our  luncheon  there  one  warm  day,  and  your  objection 
to  the  hot  roast  beef  and  peas,  when  you  wanted  cold  lamb  and 
salad?  The  chaperone  is  to  be  left  behind.  But  Harold  says 
it  is  all  right,  and  that  he  will  look  after  them ;  so,  if  it  turns 
out  all  wrong,  you  must  not  blame  me,  but  the  other  boy.  After 
all,  Dan,  it  must  be  rather  nice  to  be  young,  though  I  have 
no  special  desire  to  wriggle  backward  into  my  discarded  youth. 
But  I  should  have  liked  you  to  see  Maureen  just  now;  she  was 
a  lump  of  consolidated  sunshine.  '  Bless  her ! '  I  hear  you  say, 
and  bless  my  dear  old  Dan,  too. — Your  devoted  sister,  PEG." 

Ruth's  answer  to  Margaret's  note  was  perfectly  satis- 
factory. Her  brother,  she  wrote,  would  have  much 
pleasure  in  accepting  the  invitation.  He  was  charmed 
with  the  idea  of  the  acacia  dining-room,  which  exactly 
suited  his  Bohemian  tastes. 

Harold  looked  excessively  pleased  when  Margaret 
showed  him  the  letter. 

"  Miss  Chaytor's  handwriting  is  rather  nice,"  he  said, 
critically.  "  It  is  small  and  neat,  and  yet  perfectly 
legible." 

"  Entre-nous  amused  me  so  much  about  Ruth's 
frocks,  Aunt  Maggie.  He  told  me  that  he  liked  her  style 
of  dress,  it  was  so  simple,  and  asked  me  why  I  never 
wore  white ;  and  he  would  not  believe  me  when  I  said 
mother  could  not  afford  it  except  for  evening." 

"  I  will  get  you  a  white  frock  if  you  like,  Maureen, 
but  I  am  not  sure  that  it  would  suit  you  as  it  does  Ruth." 

"  Of  course  not,  I  am  a  regular  Brownie ;  besides,  I 
have  plenty  of  frocks,  Aunt  Maggie." 


"Harold  Says  it  is  All  Right"         223 

"  Some  girls  at  Commen.  had  dresses  exactly  like 
Miss  Chaytor,"  observed  Harold  quite  gravely,  "  and  I 
thought  they  looked  rather  fetching.  They  were  quite 
simple,  you  know." 

"  Bless  your  innocent  heart,  dear  boy,"  returned  Mar- 
garet, in  a  tone  of  amusement,  "  I  wonder  if  you  have 
any  idea  of  how  much  those  simple  white  frocks  of 
Ruth's  cost  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  the  one  I  mean,  Aunt  Peg — with  little 
tucks  and  frills  and  scrawly  things." 

"  My  dear  Maureen,  how  perfectly  hopeless  men  are 
on  the  subject  of  dress.  He  is  his  father's  son,  that  is 
quite  evident.  The  frock  he  means  is  that  soft  cambric 
with  the  lace  frills  and  embroidery,  and  must  have  cost 
ten  guineas  at  least — I  should  say  a  good  deal  more — 
for  the  lace  is  real  Valenciennes." 

"  I  expect  it  was  some  of  her  mother's  lace,"  inter- 
rupted Maureen,  as  Harold  looked  rather  shocked.  "  She 
was  telling  me  what  a  quantity  she  has.  Of  course  it 
is  a  lovely  frock,  only  suitable  for  garden  parties,  and 
I  scolded  Ruth  for  wearing  it  as  often  as  she  did." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  she  knows  she  can  well  afford  to 
buy  a  new  one.  If  Ruth  wishes  to  dress  like  a  fairy 
princess  it  is  quite  her  own  affair.  She  has  her  mother's 
jewels,  too,  though  she  has  the  good  sense  not  to  wear 
them.  She  has  really  excellent  taste  for  her  age." 

"  She  wears  her  pearls,  Aunt  Margaret." 

"  Oh  yes,  and  her  diamond  star,  too,  when  she  goes 
to  balls."  Then,  as  Harold  remained  silent,  she  changed 
the  subject  by  asking  Maureen  if  she  meant  to  wear  her 
grey  linen  for  the  Chillingford  expedition. 

"  It  certainly  suits  you,  and  it  will  not  show  the  dust," 
she  continued.  "  If  you  like  you  shall  have  my  grey 
dust-cloak,  and  with  a  veil  tied  over  your  hat  you  will 
be  quite  tidy " ;  and  Maureen  thanked  her  gratefully. 
But  Margaret,  who  was  very  observant,  noticed  that 
Harold  was  unusually  grave  during  the  remainder  of  the 


224  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

evening,  and  that  he  made  one  or  two  dry  and  rather 
scathing  remarks  when  Maureen  tried  to  rouse  him. 

"  My  arrow  hit  the  bull's  eye  that  time,"  thought 
Margaret.  "  Real  Valenciennes  and  diamond  stars,  not 
to  forget  pearl  necklaces,  brought  it  home  -to  him  rather 
forcibly."  Then  aloud,  "  Harold,  dear,  please  rescue  the 
innocent.  There  is  another  moth  courting  destruction, 
but  don't  kill  it  if  you  can  help  it;  it  has  only  just 
singed  its  wings." 

Then  there  was  rather  an  odd  look  on  Harold's  face 
as  he  rose  from  his  place.  "  Yes,  it  has  only  singed  its 
wings,"  he  observed,  in  a  low  voice,  as  he  resumed  his 
seat. 

Maureen  was  up  early  the  next  morning.  She  was 
far  too  excited  at  the  prospect  of  the  day's  treat  to 
linger  between  the  lavender-scented  sheets.  As  Margaret 
dressed  herself  she  could  see  the  grey  linen  frock  appear- 
ing and  disappearing  between  the  shrubs.  Maureen  was 
busy  gathering  flowers  for  the  breakfast-table,  a  button- 
hole for  Harold,  some  crimson  roses  and  lemon  verbena 
for  Margaret,  and  some  tea  roses  for  herself.  Harold 
joined  her  presently  in  his  cool  summer  suit,  and  Maureen, 
who  was  brimming  over  with  good  spirits,  fairly  waltzed 
him  across  the  lawn. 

"  There  is  Aunt  Margaret  pouring  out  the  coffee,  but 
I  must  have  another  turn  first." 

"  Come,  children,"  exclaimed  Margaret,  "  Time  and 
an  omelette  wait  for  no  man.  Ask  a  blessing,  Harold, 
and  fall  to,  or  Dickson  will  never  forgive  us,  *  For  it 
stands  to  reason,  ma'am/  as  she  remarked  feelingly,  '  that 
an  omelette  is  an  uncertain  sort  of  thing,  and  must  be 
eaten  hot,  or  it  is  apt  to  be  tough  and  leathery' — and 
tough  and  leathery  it  is  not";  and  Margaret  spoke  in 
a  tone  of  appreciation,  for  she  was  apt  to  boast  of  Dick- 
son's  capabilities  to  her  friends.  Mr.  Torrance  used  to 
tease  her  sometimes  by  declaring  that  she  could  not 
hold  a  candle  to  his  Joanna.  "  Joanna,  indeed !  "  and 


"Harold  Says  it  is  All  Right"         225 

Margaret  would  exclaim  in  deep  disdain  at  such  a 
comparison. 

Mr.  Chaytor  was  punctual  to  a  moment  As  he  drew 
up  at  the  Garden  House  he  seemed  a  little  amused  at 
the  expectant  group  in  the  doorway. 

"  We  are  going  to  have  a  fine  day,  Miss  Brydon,"  he 
observed,  "  though  a  trifle  dusty,  I  fear.  The  ladies  will 
need  their  cloaks."  His  remark  was  addressed  to 
Margaret,  but  Maureen  answered  it. 

"  Oh,  it  is  perfectly  lovely.  Thank  you  so  much,  Mr. 
Chaytor,  for  giving  me  this  treat." 

"  It  was  Ruth's  idea,  not  mine,"  he  returned,  genially, 
"  but  I  am  very  glad  she  thought  of  it " ;  and  Romney 
Chaytor's  smile  was  rather  nice.  Then  Maureen  climbed 
into  the  tonneau,  where  Ruth  sat,  looking  prettier  than 
ever  in  her  dainty  white  cloak,  and  a  veil  tied  over  her 
hat. 

"  Oh,  I  do  hope  I  shall  not  disgrace  myself,"  she 
whispered,  as  they  glided  off.  "  I  mean  to  be  as  brave 
as  I  can,  but  you  will  not  mind  if  I  squeeze  your  arm  a 
little  when  we  go  very  fast.  Romney  has  promised  not 
to  be  reckless." 

"  Oh,  I  love  going  fast,  and  I  never  could  feel  ner- 
vous, your  brother  drives  so  splendidly."  Maureen  had 
no  idea  that  she  could  be  overheard.  Romney  Chaytor 
gave  Harold  an  amused  glance. 

"  I  wish  my  sister  had  Miss  Brydon's  nerve.  I  never 
can  enjoy  taking  her  about  with  me,  for  I  know  she  is 
in  a  state  of  suppressed  anxiety  all  the  time." 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  temperament,"  remarked  Harold. 
"  Maureen  is  remarkably  cool  and  self-possessed — a  spice 
of  daring  rather  adds  to  the  enjoyment — but  as  I  tell 
her  she  has  never  been  in  an  accident." 

"  And  I  hope  she  never  will,"  returned  Mr.  Chaytor, 
hastily.  And  Harold  regretted  his  thoughtless  speech, 

Ruth  behaved  very  well  on  the  whole.  She  only 
pinched  Maureen's  arm  rather  hard  once  when  they 
were  gliding  down  a  long  hill.  "  But  I  did  not  utter 
15 


226  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

a  sound,"  she  observed  complacently  when  they  reached 
the  bottom.  And  Maureen,  who  saw  she  was  rather 
pale,  forbore  to  mention  that  her  arm  would  certainly  be 
black  and  blue  on  the  morrow ;  for  in  spite  of  her  brown 
complexion,  Maureen  had  very  pretty  white  arms. 
Maureen  was  quite  sorry  when  the  Braile  business  was 
over,  and  the  motor  stopped  before  the  Grey-Hound. 

"  What  a  quaint,  picturesque  old  street,"  observed 
Harold,  as  they  went  into  the  old-fashioned,  dark  little 
hotel,  where  the  girls  prepared  to  leave  their  cloaks  and 
get  rid  of  the  dust,  before  they  walked  to  the  church. 

The  young  waitress  who  received  them,  volunteered 
to  show  them  the  house  and  the  haunted  room,  while 
Harold  waited  for  them  below ;  and  the  girls  eagerly 
assented  to  this.  Ruth  knew  all  the  rooms  by  heart,  but 
she  would  not  deprive  Maureen  of  the  pleasure ;  so  they 
hurried  through  narrow  passages,  and  up  and  down  steep 
little  staircases,  into  large,  low-ceilinged  rooms  with 
quaint  windows.  But  Maureen  did  not  seem  inclined 
to  linger;  she  drew  rather  a  long  breath  of  relief  when 
she  found  herself  in  the  open  air  again. 

"  It  was  very  picturesque,  and  some  of  the  rooms 
looked  cosy  enough,"  she  remarked,  "  but  somehow  I 
felt  rather  suffocated.  They  have  several  artists  staying 
there  now,  the  girl  told  us,  and  we  saw  a  couple  of 
portmanteaus  and  easels  in  one  room.  But,  Harold,  I 
would  not  sleep  a  night  there  for  anything." 

"  Well,  they  have  rather  a  ghastly  story  about  the 
haunted  room,  murders  galore,  and  a  cupboard  full  of 
bones." 

"  Oh,  I  was  not  thinking  of  ghosts,"  returned  Mau- 
reen, as  they  turned  the  corner  by  the  church.  "  But 
oh,  Harold,  it  is  all  so  dreadfully  old,  and  if  a  fire  should 
break  out  one  night — why,  it  would  be  a  regular  death- 
trap. Some  of  the  windows  do  not  open  much — just 
a  pane  or  two — and  one  could  never  find  one's  way 
down  those  narrow  passages  and  out-of-the-way  stair- 


"Harold  Says  it  is  All  Right"          227 

cases.    I  felt  quite  hot  at  the  mere  idea,  and  Ruth  owned 
that  she  felt  the  same," 

"  Yes,  but  I  never  tell  Romney  so,"  returned  Ruth 
gravely.  And  then  they  left  off  talking  as  they  entered 
the  fine  old  Church  of  St.  Anne's,  Chillingford. 


XXV 

AMONG  THE   SAND-DUNES 

Life  is  sweet,  brother.  There's  day  and  night,  brother— 
both  sweet  things;  sun,  moon,  and  stars, — all  sweet  things. 
There  is  likewise  a  wind  on  the  heath. — BORROW. 

Unborn   To-morrow,   and   dead   Yesterday, 
Why  fret  about  them  if  To-day  be  sweet! 

OMAR  KHAYYAM. 

HAROLD'S  intelligent  interest  in  everything  rather 
surprised  Ruth.  He  was  such  a  marked  contrast  to 
her  cousin.  On  their  last  visit  to  Chillingford,  Percival 
had  walked  down  St.  Anne's  aisle  with  rather  a  bored 
expression,  as  though  he  were  performing  an  irksome 
duty,  and  had  seemed  relieved  when  it  was  over.  Harold 
Brydon  was  quite  different,  she  thought;  not  a  detail 
escaped  him.  In  his  quiet  unassuming  way  he  showed 
a  considerable  knowledge  of  architecture. 

"  You  must  have  read  a  good  deal,"  she  said  to  him, 
in  rather  an  awed  voice.  Maureen  had  left  them  to 
look  at  a  picture,  in  the  little  chapel,  that  had  taken  her 
fancy,  and  for  the  moment  they  were  alone. 

"  Yes ;  I  did  some  reading  at  Oxford,"  was  his 
answer.  "  I  was  always  much  interested  in  architecture. 
A  man  who  was  rather  an  authority  on  such  matters 
gave  some  capital  lectures  on  architecture  and  archaeo- 
logy, and  I  went  in  for  the  whole  course.  But  I  do  very 
little  reading  now,  unless  it  is  connected  with  my  work. 
But,  thank  goodness,  I  have  passed  my  examinations." 

"You  are  a  solicitor,  are  you  not?"  Ruth  spoke  a 
little  absently.  She  was  thinking  at  that  moment  what 
a  pity  it  was  that  Mr.  Brydon  wore  pince-nez — he  had 
such  nice  eyes.  But  she  changed  her  mind  the  next 
minute,  and  decided  that  they  suited  him,  and  that  she 
228 


Among  the  Sand-Dunes  229 

would  not  have  him  look  otherwise,  "  for  he  is  really 
rather  a  distinguished-looking  young  man,"  she  thought. 
And  Romney,  who  was  no  mean  authority,  considered 
him  so  very  clever  and  gentlemanly;  but  here  Ruth 
roused  herself  from  her  reverie. 

"  Yes,  I  am  a  solicitor,"  returned  Harold,  rather 
abruptly.  "  My  father  wanted  me,  so  I  had  to  give  up 
my  hope  of  the  Bar.  Somebody  says  life  is  like  an 
obstacle  race — don't  you  think  it  is  rather  true,  Miss 
Chaytor?" 

Ruth  considered  a  moment,  then  the  old  wistful  sad- 
ness came  into  her  lovely  eyes.  "  You  mean  there  are 
so  many  difficulties  in  life.  Oh  yes,  I  know ;  one  cannot 
always  carry  out  one's  wishes." 

"  Or  satisfy  one's  ambition,"  as  Ruth  hesitated. 

"  No,  perhaps  not ;  but  there  is  something  better, 
surely.  Maureen  told  me  that  you  gave  up  your  own 
choice  of  a  profession  because  your  father  needed  you 
so  badly,  and  I  think  that  was  so  splendid  of  you." 

"  Thank  you."  The  brevity  of  Harold's  answer 
rather  disconcerted  Ruth. 

"  Please  forgive  me  if  I  have  said  too  much,"  she 
stammered.  "  I  am  afraid  Maureen  ought  not  to  have 
told  me,  but  I  was  so  much  interested." 

"  You  could  never  say  too  much,  and  I  am  very 
grateful  to  you  for  your  sympathy."  Harold  spoke  in 
rather  a  jerky  voice,  and  then  checked  himself  abruptly. 

Unlucky  chaperone,  Margaret,  weeding  the  flower 
borders  with  such  tranquil  enjoyment,  what  would  you 
have  said  to  that  sudden  glow  in  Harold's  eyes  and 
the  odd  break  in  his  voice?  Only  ten  days,  and  already 
the  mischief  had  been  done,  and  the  desire  of  the  moth 
for  the  star  had  resulted  in  the  singeing  of  wings.  Ruth 
did  not  know  why  Harold's  look  made  her  feel  suddenly 
shy. 

"  Maureen  seems  lost,  and  it  is  time  for  us  to  go  back 
to  the  Grey-Hound,"  she  said  hurriedly ;  and  then  Harold 


230  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

proposed  that  they  should  go  in  search  of  her.  But  as 
they  walked  down  the  aisle  they  saw  her  coming  towards 
them. 

"  It  is  nearly  one  o'clock,  and  Mr.  Chaytor  will  think 
we  have  lost  ourselves,"  she  exclaimed.  But  as  they 
walked  towards  the  Grey-Hound,  Maureen  was  chat- 
tering so  fast  that  she  did  not  notice  how  silent  Harold 
was. 

As  they  were  about  to  enter  the  sitting-room  the 
young  waitress  told  them  that  Mr.  Chaytor  was  already 
in  the  dining-room.  He  had  selected  a  table  rather  near 
the  door,  with  a  window  overlooking  a  courtyard.  As 
Maureen  sat  down  she  looked  approvingly  at  the  quaint 
old  panelled  room,  with  its  deep  cavernous  fireplace 
and  wide  window.  Another  motor  party  occupied  the 
table  next  them,  and  two  or  three  cyclists  were  at  the 
other  end.  A  lady  artist  and  her  sister,  who  had  been 
staying  in  the  house  for  a  week  or  two  and  occupied  the 
haunted  room,  came  in  during  the  course  of  the  meal, 
and  Maureen  found  plenty  of  amusement  in  watching 
them. 

The  girl's  bright  looks  and  evident  enjoyment  were 
infectious.  Harold's  gravity  relaxed  and  Ruth  forgot 
Tier  shyness  as  they  chatted  merrily  on  any  subject  that 
came  on  the  tapis. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  yourselves  during 
the  next  two  or  three  hours  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Chaytor.  He 
addressed  Maureen,  but  she  was  quite  ready  with  her 
answer. 

"  We  want  to  show  Harold  the  town.  He  has  not 
half  seen  it  yet,  and  then  Ruth  is  going  to  get  some 
photographs.  If  there  is  time  we  should  like  to  take 
the  steam-tram  to  the  sand-dunes  and  see  if  we  could  get 
a  glimpse  of  the  sea.  We  should  all  like  that." 

"  Well,  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  turn  up  until 
lialf-past  five  or  six.  We  shall  leave  about  seven;  but 
I  expect  you  will  be  tired  long  before  that." 

"  Then  I  will  bring  them  back  for  a  rest,"  returned 


Among  the  Sand-Dunes  231 

Harold.  "  How  shall  you  amuse  yourself  in  our 
absence  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  consider  me,"  observed  Romney 
carelessly.  "  I  have  a  man  coming  over  on  business  at 
three,  and  when  I  get  rid  of  him  I  shall  have  a  smoke 
and  a  read." 

"  I  wish  you  could  come  too,"  observed  Maureen. 
She  spoke  out  of  the  kindness  of  her  heart,  and  she  so 
evidently  meant  what  she  said  that  Romney  Chaytor 
seemed  rather  touched. 

"  Thanks ;  you  are  very  kind.  But  my  locomotive 
powers  are  somewhat  limited.  You  will  find  the  sand- 
dunes  a  bit  tiring,  I  fancy.  You  will  have  to  walk  such 
a  long  way  before  you  get  to  the  sea."  But  the  girls 
gaily  negatived  this  as  they  ran  off. 

When  they  had  explored  all  the  quaint  old  streets  and 
nooks  and  corners  of  the  picturesque  old  town,  Ruth 
had  selected  photos  in  her  usual  lavish  manner.  All 
the  duplicates  were  for  Maureen,  she  explained.  She 
refused  to  listen  when  Maureen  told  her  that  she  had 
no  book  for  her  collection.  "  That  can  soon  be  reme- 
died," returned  Ruth  primly;  and  she  privately  deter- 
mined to  write  to  her  cousin  Doris  the  next  day,  and 
commission  her  to  purchase  the  nicest  photograph-album 
she  could  find. 

Of  course  it  was  Ruth  who  flagged  first,  though  she 
bravely  tried  to  hide  her  fatigue  from  her  companions; 
but  Harold  was  not  to  be  deceived. 

"  You  are  tired,"  he  said  suddenly.  "  Maureen,  stop, 
we  won't  go  a  step  farther.  What  does  it  matter  get- 
ting a  view  of  that  mill-pond  of  a  sea." 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  Please  let  us  go  on.  I  am  not  so  very 
tired  " ;  but  Ruth  was  rather  near  a  fib  just  then.  She 
was  dead-beat,  and  Harold  knew  it. 

"  You  can  sit  down  on  that  nice  little  sand-heap,"  he 
returned  coolly.  "  Maureen  has  had  about  enough  of  it, 
too,  though  she  is  generally  game  for  anything.  But 
it  is  rather  hot  and  the  sand  is  tiring." 


232  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  He  is  right,"  observed  Maureen,  cheerfully,  "  and 
we  will  have  a  rest." 

Then  Harold  stretched  himself  on  the  sand  at  their 
feet.  There  were  green  patches  of  tussock  grass,  and 
little  grey  flowers  springing  up  here  and  there.  Some 
sand-pipers  were  wading  in  a  salt  pool  near  them,  and 
the  cloudless  blue  sky  was  over  their  heads.  Ruth 
opened  her  sunshade.  She  was  like  a  tired  child  who 
had  played  long  enough. 

"  Oh,  how  nice !  "  she  gasped,  as  a  little  breeze  from 
the  sea  caressed  her.  Harold  smiled  furtively  at  her 
tone.  It  was  almost  infantine  in  its  simplicity.  What 
a  little  young  thing  she  looked  as  she  sat  there  in  her 
white  dress,  he  thought.  And  then  the  young  man 
averted  his  eyes. 

Maureen  was  the  next  to  break  the  silence.  "  I  am 
afraid  the  steam-tram  will  not  be  up  for  another  half- 
hour,  will  it,  Harold?" 

"  No ;  we  shall  have  to  wait  five-and-thirty  minutes, 
I  am  afraid,"  glancing  at  Ruth.  "  We  ought  not  to  have 
attempted  it." 

"  Oh,  please,  don't  let  your  brother  say  that,  Mau- 
reen," exclaimed  Ruth,  in  a  distressed  voice.  "  We  are 
quite  comfortable,  are  we  not  ?  and  I  shall  soon  be  rested. 
Let  us  talk,  and  forget  anything  so  sublunary  as  fatigue." 

But  Harold  suddenly  became  masterful.  He  had  no- 
ticed that,  in  spite  of  her  sprightly  air,  Ruth's  voice 
sounded  very  weary. 

"No;  I  will  talk  and  you  shall  listen.  I  have  just 
remembered  such  a  good  story  one  of  our  men  told  me. 
Maureen  has  heard  it,  but  she  will  not  mind  hearing  it 
again." 

"  Not  if  you  mean  the  history  of  that  night  at 
Netherby  Farm.  Oh  no,  I  love  that  story  too  much. 
Ruth  will  be  charmed." 

And  then  Harold,  settling  himself  more  comfortably, 
began  his  narrative  in  his  quiet,  level  voice. 

Ruth  listened  as  though  she  was  magnetised.     The 


Among  the  Sand-Dunes  233 

story  was  more  than  interesting,  it  was  entrancing,  and 
Harold  told  it  so  well.  By  the  time  it  had  ended  Ruth 
had  forgotten  her  fatigue.  She  was  rested,  refreshed, 
exhilarated. 

"  Oh,  did  it  really  happen  quite  like  that  ?  "  she  said 
dreamily,  "  and  will  that  nice  girl  marry  him  after  all  ?  " 

"  They  are  engaged.  Sinclair  wrote  to  tell  me  so, 
and  I  congratulated  him  with  all  my  heart.  Yes;  it  is 
rather  an  odd  story,  but  I  have  not  embellished  it  in 
the  least."  Then  Ruth  folded  her  little  white  hands  on 
her  lap,  and  her  dark  eyes  looked  thoughtfully  out  over 
the  dunes. 

How  well  she  remembered  that  scene  afterwards: 
the  low  range  of  sand-dunes,  with  the  hazy  blue  sky 
overhead ;  the  young  man  stretched  at  her  feet,  with  the 
clear-cut  profile,  the  firm  mouth,  and  the  keen,  clever 
eyes,  which  seemed  to  read  everything.  What  a  beautiful 
voice  he  had,  and  how  different,  how  utterly  dissimilar 
he  was  to  Percy!  And  a  little  fretted  line  came  on 
Ruth's  forehead  as  she  remembered  Percy's  teasing  and 
monopolising  ways.  He  had  never  been  her  favourite 
like  Kenneth,  but  since  his  visit  to  Marsh  Hall  she  had 
cared  for  him  less.  Why  had  he  made  her  so  many 
pretty  speeches?  And  though  she  had  turned  them  off 
with  a  laugh  and  a  jest,  they  had  made  her  vaguely 
uncomfortable. 

The  little  tram  came  up  at  this  moment  and  they 
hurried  to  take  their  places.  Even  Maureen  owned  to 
being  rather  tired.  They  found  Mr.  Chaytor  in  the 
dining-room,  awaiting  them.  He  had  his  book  beside 
him,  and  looked  cool  and  fresh.  He  noticed  at  once 
that  Ruth  seemed  fatigued. 

"  You  have  been  walking  too  much  in  the  heat,  dear. 
You  must  have  a  good  rest  to-morrow."  Maureen 
thought  his  manner  very  kind,  and  Ruth  brightened  up 
at  once. 

"  It  was  so  tiring  walking  in  the  sand,  Romney ;  but 
we  had  a  lovely  time.  And  Mr.  Brvdon  told  us  such 


234  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

an  interesting  story,  quite  true,  and  with  a  delightful 
ending." 

Maureen  never  quite  knew  who  proposed  an  exchange 
of  companions  for  the  return  journey,  but  she  had  an 
idea  that  it  was  Harold.  She  was  certainly  not  dis- 
pleased to  find  herself  promoted  to  a  front  seat.  Mr. 
Chaytor  made  himself  very  agreeable,  and  the  girl  chatted 
away  to  him  as  though  she  had  known  him  for  years. 
Maureen  was  not  naturally  shy,  and  she  was  always 
perfectly  simple.  Perhaps  Mr.  Chaytor  drew  her  out 
a  little,  for  she  found  herself  telling  him  the  October 
plans,  and  how  her  Aunt  Margaret  was  going  to  stay 
with  an  old  friend  near  Edinburgh,  and  she  was  going 
home  for  a  whole  month  or  five  weeks.  "  And  how  I 
shall  love  to  be  with  them  all  again !  "  she  finished.  "  Not 
that  I  am  not  happy  at  Branksmere,  but  there  are  times 
when  one  wants  one's  own  people." 

Romney  Chaytor  smiled  as  though  he  understood. 

"  Ruth  is  to  join  her  aunt  and  cousins  at  Scarborough 
about  the  middle  of  September,"  he  returned.  "  They 
want  her  for  the  last  three  weeks.  They  are  to  go 
back  to  Westcombe  Lodge  the  end  of  the  first  week  in 
October." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Ruth  told  me ;  and  she  has  made  me 
promise  to  go  over  and  see  them — they  are  always  at 
home  on  Saturdays.  I  shall  make  Harold  take  me,  as 
mother  never  likes  us  to  go  about  alone.  I  shall  get 
Ruth  to  spend  a  long  day  with  me." 

Mr.  Chaytor  listened  as  though  he  were  interested. 
There  was  a  freshness  about  the  girl,  a  cheerful  opti- 
mism, a  gaiete  de  cceur,  that  somehow  attracted  him. 
Maureen  was  not  handsome,  but  she  was  as  sweet  and 
wholesome  as  a  moorland  breeze.  She  did  not  tire  or 
pall  upon  a  man  as  some  girls  did.  "  Ruth  could  not 
have  a  better  friend,"  he  said  to  himself. 

"  By  the  bye,"  he  said,  presently,  as  they  glided  down 
a  gentle  slope,  "  I  wonder  if  you  will  forgive  me  if  I 
deprive  you  of  your  brother  for  a  night  ?  " 


Among  the  Sand-Dunes  235 

"  A  night  ? "  rather  dubiously,  for  little  more  than  a 
week  remained  of  Harold's  visit,  and  the  beautiful  days 
were  passing  so  quickly,  so  quickly. 

"  Well,  you  see,  we  have  planned  a  trip  which  will 
land  us  at  Branksmere  about  midnight,  or  later  perhaps, 
and  it  would  hardly  do  to  knock  Miss  Brydon  up  at 
that  hour;  so  I  have  proposed  to  your  brother  to  put 
him  up  at  Marsh  Hall.  I  promise  you  that  he  shall 
be  with  you  by  luncheon  the  next  day.  Am  I  asking 
too  great  a  sacrifice  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  is  a  sacrifice,"  returned  Maureen,  frankly, 
"  but  I  would  not  deprive  Harold  of  such  a  pleasure  for 
the  world.  He  does  so  enjoy  these  motor  excursions, 
and  it  is  so  good  of  you  to  give  him  the  treat.  Oh, 
there  is  Marsh  Hall.  I  had  no  idea  we  were  so  near." 

Meanwhile  Harold  was  saying  in  a  low  voice,  "  Only 
a  week  more,  and  I  shall  be  on  the  treadmill  again.  I 
don't  think  I  have  ever  had  such  a  holiday  in  my  life. 
I  have  never  enjoyed  one  more." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  and  Ruth  dimpled  with  pleasure. 
Mr.  Brydon  had  been  such  a  delightful  companion; 
he  had  interested  and  amused  her  so  much,  that  she 
had  quite  forgotten  to  be  nervous,  and  was  even  a  little 
sorry  that  the  drive  had  come  to  an  end. 

They  were  so  punctual  that  Margaret  had  not  begun 
to  look  out  for  them,  but  she  welcomed  them  gladly. 
The  girls  ran  upstairs  to  get  rid  of  their  dust  and  to 
smooth  their  hair,  and  the  gentlemen  went  out  into  the 
garden,  where  they  found  Mr.  Torrance,  whom  Romney 
Chaytor  greeted  with  marked  pleasure. 

Margaret  had  certainly  not  wasted  her  time.  The 
supper-table  was  charmingly  embellished  with  flowers 
and  crimson-shaded  lamps.  Margaret  wore  a  white 
dress  for  coolness,  and  Maureen's  crimson  roses  tucked 
in  her  lace  fichu,  and  in  the  soft  light  she  looked  as 
slim  and  graceful  as  a  girl. 

Romney  Chaytor  seemed  quite  at  his  ease.  He  and 
Mr.  Torrance  and  Margaret  kept  the  ball  of  conversa- 


236  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

tion  rolling.  Harold  was  a  little  quiet — now  and  then 
he  spoke  in  a  low  voice  to  Ruth,  and  she  answered  him, 
but  no  one  could  hear  what  they  were  saying.  If  Ruth's 
eyes  were  brighter  than  usual,  and  there  was  a  flush 
on  her  face,  only  Harold  noticed  the  fact.  The  rest 
of  the  party  were  too  much  engaged  to  be  observant  of 
trifles. 

"  Mr.  Chaytor,"  observed  Margaret,  "  are  you  aware 
that  this  is  the  first  time  you  have  broken  bread  at  the 
Garden  House  ?  " 

"  I  trust  it  will  not  be  the  last  time,  my  dear  lady." 
And  then  Romney  filled  his  glass  with  claret.  "  I  drink 
to  your  good  health,  Miss  Brydon,  and  to  our  noble 
selves,  and  to  our  next  merry  meeting.  Now,  Ruth, 
it  is  half-past  ten,  and  it  is  time  I  took  you  back."  And 
then  the  whole  party  went  to  the  door  to  see  them  off. 

"  You  have  scored  one  there,  Margaret,"  observed 
Mr.  Torrance.  "  Thanks  to  you,  Chaytor  is  coming  out 
of  his  shell  a  little." 

"  Oh,  I  like  him  so  much,  and  I  want  to  do  him 
good ! "  returned  Margaret,  in  her  earnest,  warm-hearted 
way.  "  He  was  very  pleased  to  find  you  here,  Henry, 
and  I  think  it  made  him  feel  more  at  home." 

"  Oh,  Harold,  hasn't  it  been  a  perfectly  lovely  day !  " 
exclaimed  Maureen.  The  moon  had  sailed  behind  a 
cloud,  and  they  could  not  see  each  other's  faces. 

"  Yes,  tipping.  Good-night,  Maureen ;  I  am  a  bit 
tired " ;  and  Entre-nous  marched  off.  Maureen  felt 
rather  disappointed — she  wanted  to  talk  over  the  day. 
How  could  Harold  be  tired  when  she  was  as  wide  awake 
and  frisky  as  possible?  Neither  would  Aunt  Margaret 
be  coaxed  into  a  gossip. 

"  Oh,  go  to  bed,  little  girl,"  she  said  firmly.  "  It  is 
nearly  eleven,  and  it  is  time  for  country-folk  to  be 
asleep.  I  will  talk  as  much  as  you  like  at  breakfast." 
And  she  drew  Maureen  in,  and  locked  and  bolted  the 
front  door. 


XXVI 

"ENTRE-NOUS" 

Oh,  a  trouble's  a  ton,  or  a  trouble's  an  ounce* 

Or  a  trouble  is  what  you  make  it, 
And  it  isn't  the  fact  that  you're  hurt  that  counts, 

But  only — how  did  you  take  it? 

ANON. 

What  is  past  is  prologue. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

MAUREEN  was  in  a  brown  study;  she  was  thinking, 
thinking  deeply.  It  was  not  that  she  was  exactly  low- 
spirited,  though,  of  course,  she  was  a  little  dull,  which 
was  only  natural,  as  Harold  had  left  them  about  three 
hours  ago;  but  as  they  would  probably  meet  before 
five  weeks  were  over,  she  did  not  mean  to  behave  like 
a  little  goose.  Here  Maureen  winked  away  something 
that  seemed  to  blur  her  sight  for  a  moment;  but,  of 
course,  she  did  miss  her  dear  boy  sadly ! 

Well,  then,  what  was  the  trouble?  What  caused 
the  tiny  cloud  on  the  blue  of  her  horizon?  This  was 
the  problem  that  Maureen  was  trying  to  solve  for  her 
own  satisfaction,  for  to  be  perfectly  happy  with  one's 
belongings  she  thought  one  ought  to  be  able  to  read 
them  as  legibly  as  children  read  ABC. 

Well,  the  gist  of*  the  matter  was  that  Harold  had 
not  seemed  quite  himself  during  the  last  week.  He 
had  been  decidedly  Entre-nous  and  rather  uncommuni- 
cative. And  yet  what  a  splendid  week  it  had  been — 
literally  packed  with  engagements  and  pleasures.  Every 
day  had  its  programme. 

First,  there  was  that  delightful  motor  excursion,  when 
HaroM  slept  at  Marsh  Hall,  and  which  he  had  enjoyed 
so  tremendously;  and  though  he  was  a  little  late  for 
luncheon  the  next  day,  and  they  were  obliged  to  begin 

287 


238  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

without  him,  he  was  so  penitent  and  full  of  apologies 
to  Aunt  Margaret  that  they  forgave  him  on  the  spot. 
The  morning  had  gone  so  quickly.  Mr.  Chaytor  had 
been  singing  to  them;  he  had  a  fine  voice,  and  had  evi- 
dently been  well  taught.  Oh  yes — in  answer  to  a  ques- 
tion from  Maureen — Miss  Chaytor  had  sung  too.  She 
and  her  brother  had  tried  over  some  duets,  and  their 
voices  had  blended  admirably.  "  It  was  really  quite  a 
treat,"  he  finished. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  been  there,  Harold." 
"  So  do  I,  for  I  am  sure  you  would  have  enjoyed  it.'* 
Then  Harold  turned  his  attention  to  his  cutlet,  though 
he  honestly  confessed  that  he  had  breakfasted  so  late 
that  he  had  small  appetite  for  luncheon.  As  he  had 
not  been  in  bed  before  two  that  morning,  it  was  quite 
natural  that  he  should  be  drowsy  and  indisposed  for 
talk  until  tea-time ;  and  Maureen  had  been  too  much 
interested  in  her  book  to  notice  the  very  wide-awake 
pair  of  eyes  under  the  straw  hat. 

The  next  day  there  had  been  a  tennis  party  at  Gayton 
Lodge — one  of  the  Brants'  big  affairs ;  lots  of  smart 
people  from  a  distance;  and  Ruth  had  worn  her  prettiest 
dress  and  looked  lovely.  Maureen  remembered  that 
she  and  Harold  had  played  several  games  together,  and 
Ruth  had  been  full  of  innocent  glee  when  they  won. 

"  Your  brother  says  I  have  improved  so  much  in  my 
play,"  Ruth  had  said,  proudly.     "  I  am  so  glad,  so  very 
glad   I  helped  him  to  win."     Perhaps  it  was  as  well 
that  she  did  not  overhear  Harold's  version  of  the  game. 
"  Oh  yes,  we  smashed  them  easily.     But  that  was  a 
foregone   conclusion.     The   fellow   was    such   a   duffer, 
Miss  Jenny  had  not  a  chance.    He  would  take  her  balls, 
and  missed  most  of  them." 
"And  Ruth  played  nicely?" 
"  Oh  yes,  but  we  could  not  help  winning." 
Then  Harold's  manner  grew  absent,   and  the  next 
moment  Maureen  saw  that  he  had  joined  the  little  group 
round  Ruth. 


"Entre-Nous"  239 

It  really  had  been  a  delightful  afternoon,  and  then 
the  Brants  had  insisted  on  their  remaining  to  an  informal 
supper.  Ruth  had  stayed  too,  and  several  of  their 
intimate  friends ;  and  then  came  one  of  the  Brants'  sur- 
prises, for  when  they  came  out  of  the  lighted  supper- 
room  they  found  some  Chinese  lanterns  had  been  lighted, 
and  the  piano  had  been  wheeled  on  to  the  gravel  path. 
There  was  to  be  dancing  on  the  lawn. 

Maureen,  who  loved  dancing,  was  very  ready  to  take 
her  place  with  the  others.  She  had  only  time  to  notice 
that  Harold  had  secured  Ruth  for  the  first  valse  before 
her  own  partner  carried  her  off.  Maureen  felt  a  little 
dizzy.  The  uncertain  light,  the  swinging  lanterns,  the 
moving  forms  gliding  over  the  grass,  gave  her  a  feeling 
as  though  she  were  assisting  at  some  solemn  and  mys- 
tical rite.  The  weird,  creaking  notes  of  a  night- jar  every 
now  and  then  made  itself  heard,  and  as  the  music  died 
away  there  were  faint  twitters  from  the  tree-tops,  of 
disturbed  and  waking  birds.  Maureen  was  rather  glad 
when  her  partner,  a  boy-officer,  proposed  a  turn  in  the 
shrubberies.  In  a  secluded  nook  she  came  upon  Ruth 
resting  herself,  with  Harold  standing  like  a  sentinel 
beside  her  chair. 

The  next  morning  they  had  gone  down  to  St.  Quin- 
tin  with  Aunt  Margaret,  and  Ruth  and  Mary  Armytage 
had  joined  them,  and  they  had  all  been  as  happy  as  pos- 
sible; only  once  or  twice  the  thought  had  crossed 
Maureen's  mind  that  Harold  looked  very  tired  and  as 
though  he  had  not  slept  well,  though  he  scouted  the  idea 
with  much  indignation  when  she  ventured  to  question 
him. 

"  Whatever  put  such  an  absurd  notion  in  your 
head  ?  "  he  had  said,  rather  querulously ;  and  Maureen 
felt  a  little  crushed.  But  it  was  very  odd,  she  thought, 
that  the  same  idea  had  occurred  to  Aunt  Margaret. 

The  next  day  they  had  all  been  invited  to  Marsh 
Hall,  and  that  had  been  very  pleasant  indeed ;  for  Mr. 
Chaytor  had  been  really  delightful,  and  so  kind — and 


240  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

here  Maureen  blushed  at  the  pleasant  remembrance. 
Aunt  Margaret  had  said  something  about  his  singing 
at  her  house,  and  how  much  she  and  Maureen  would 
enjoy  hearing  those  duets.  Margaret  never  beat  about 
the  bush  when  she  wanted  a  thing,  and  he  had  responded 
quite  amiably. 

"  If  you  are  sure  you  and  your  niece  would  like  it " 
— but  he  had  looked  at  Maureen  as  he  spoke — "  Ruth 
and  I  will  be  pleased  to  do  our  best  for  your  entertain- 
ment." And  then  he  had  told  Ruth  to  take  the  ladies 
up  into  the  library,  and  he  and  Brydon  would  join  them. 
And  Maureen  knew  that  he  had  sent  them  on  on  purpose, 
for  stairs  always  tried  him;  and  even  when  he  entered 
on  Harold's  arm,  she  and  Aunt  Margaret  were  too  much 
engaged  with  the  view  to  think  of  turning  round  until 
he  was  at  the  piano. 

And  then  what  a  delightful  hour  ensued,  when  one 
song  followed  another.  First  Mr.  Chaytor  sang  alone, 
and  then  he  and  Ruth  joined  in  some  favourite  duet. 
Ruth's  sweet  bird-like  notes  blended  charmingly  with 
her  brother's  rich,  deep  tones.  It  was  delicious,  soul- 
satisfying;  but  how  quiet  Harold  had  been.  Maureen 
could  not  remember  that  he  had  opened  his  lips  once; 
and  that  evening  he  made  some  excuse,  and  went  out 
for  a  long  solitary  prowl.  Maureen  would  have  loved 
to  accompany  him  but  she  could  not  invite  herself. 

But  it  was  the  next  afternoon,  when  they  went  to  the 
Rectory  for  croquet,  that  Maureen  thought  Harold  so 
unlike  himself.  He  was  so  strange,  too.  in  his  behaviour 
to  Ruth,  for  he  scarcely  went  near  her,  and  allowed 
Jenny  Brant  to  monopolise  him  all  the  afternoon. 
Maureen  saw  Ruth  glance  timidly  at  him  once  or  twice 
as  though  she  missed  his  attentions.  What  could  have 
gone  amiss?  Had  Ruth  offended  him  in  any  way?  But 
no,  that  was  impossible!  At  that  moment  she  saw  that 
Harold  had  intercepted  the  girl's  anxious  glance;  that 
he  hesitated,  and  finally  crossed  the  lawn  towards  her, 
and  Ruth  had  brightened  up  at  once.  But  he  had  not 


"Entre-Nous"  241 

stayed  long;  and  that  evening  he  had  gone  again  for  a 
solitary  prowl.  And  at  breakfast  the  next  morning 
Aunt  Margaret  had  remarked  aloud  that  Harold  looked 
as  though  he  had  burnt  the  midnight  oil.  And  then  he 
had  confessed  that  he  had  been  a  bit  wakeful. 

"  I  shall  have  a  dip  in  the  sea,  and  that  will  set  me 
to  rights,  Aunt  Peggy."  And  then  he  had  suggested 
that  Maureen  should  put  on  her  hat,  and  they  had 
sallied  out  as  usual.  But  though  the  sea  bath  had  fresh- 
ened him  up,  it  had  not  put  him  to  rights  or  made  him 
more  disposed  for  conversation. 

"  Only  three  days  more,  Harold  dear,"  she  had  said, 
by  way  of  beginning.  But  Harold  had  only  grunted 
out  "  Yes,  I  know,"  and  opened  his  book.  But  when 
Maureen  peeped  over  his  shoulder  half  an  hour  later  he 
had  not  turned  the  page. 

Maureen  felt  her  uneasiness  dated  from  that  moment. 
Harold  tried  to  be  nice  to  her — in  fact,  he  was  nice; 
he  took  no  more  solitary  prowls,  but  did  his  duty  man- 
fully. On  Saturday  afternoon  Mr.  Chaytor  took  them 
for  a  long  motor  drive.  They  had  tea  at  a  little  rustic 
inn  overlooking  a  village  green.  But  this  time  there 
was  no  exchange  of  companions,  and  Maureen  took  her 
place  beside  Ruth  in  the  tonneau.  Maureen  felt  a  little 
disappointed,  and  she  fancied  Ruth  was  too.  She  cer- 
tainly looked  a  little  out  of  spirits,  and  was  unusually 
nervous  when  a  chicken  ran  in  front  of  the  car  cackling 
with  terror.  "  All  right,  Ruth ;  we  have  not  gone  over 
it,"  exclaimed  her  brother  in  a  reassuring  voice;  "the 
youngster  is  all  right."  But  Ruth  had  hardly  answered ; 
she  looked  tired  and  dispirited. 

But  as  Harold  helped  her  to  descend  there  was  a 
little  look  of  reproach  in  her  sweet  eyes  which  made 
him  wince.  "  Why  are  you  behaving  so  strangely  to 
me?"  they  seemed  to  ask  him.  "What  have  I  done? 
I  thought  we  were  such  good  friends."  The  young  man 
bowed  his  head  almost  humbly  at  this  rebuke,  but  only 
a  sad  look  answered  her.  Harold  was  stricken  dumb. 
16 


242  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

No  one  had  been  very  cheerful  on  Sunday.  Mar- 
garet, who  had  over-exerted  herself  in  the  garden,  paid 
the  penalty  in  the  shape  of  a  severe  headache,  which 
prevented  her  from  going  to  church,  and  made  her  a 
dull  companion.  In  the  afternoon  Harold  walked  over 
to  Marsh  Hall  to  bid  his  friends  good-bye.  Maureen 
did  not  like  to  leave  Margaret ;  besides,  she  had  an  idea 
that  Harold  would  rather  go  alone.  He  was  away  some 
time — indeed  they  had  finished  tea  before  he  appeared. 
Mr.  Torrance  had  come  in  to  ask  why  Margaret  had 
been  absent  from  church,  and  the  little  attention  had 
given  her  much  pleasure. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  much  better,"  she  said,  with  her  old 
cheerfulness.  "  The  pain  has  quite  gone,  and  I  am  only 
a  little  washed-out  and  contrite." 

"  So  you  ought  to  be,"  he  said,  rather  severely.  "  A 
woman  of  your  sense  ought  to  know  better  than  to  dig 
in  the  kitchen  garden  like  a  day  labourer.  Really,  Mar- 
garet, if  you  do  not  value  your  health  and  splendid 

constitution  more  highly "  for  the  signs  of  past 

suffering  on  her  unusually  pale  face  quite  angered  him. 

"  Hush,  Henry !  Margaret  has  evidently  been  mis- 
behaving herself,  running  amuck  in  that  fashion  among 
the  cabbages,  but  she  has  her  punishment " ;  then  she 
folded  her  hands  languidly.  "  Maureen,  tell  him  I  am 
sorry,  and  that  I  will  never  do  it  again." 

Mr.  Torrance  smiled.  "  Not  until  the  next  time. 
Oh,  I  know  you,  Margaret;  you  are  incorrigible." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  don't  get  wiser  as  I  get  older,  Henry. 
I  wonder  if  I  ever  shall.  Headaches  are  depressing 
things;  they  make  one  take  gloomy  views  of  life.  This 
afternoon  I  was  grumbling  to  myself  about  the  necessity 
of  growing  old — oh,  don't  listen,  Maureen,  it  is  not  for 
your  ears,  little  girl — but  it  just  seemed  all  so  stupid 
and  tiresome.  One's  bones  would  ache,  and  one's  joints 
grow  stiff,  and  the  delightful,  indescribable  elasticity 
of  youth  would  be  gone.  Oh,  I  was  getting  quite  hipped 
and  mazy,  and  then  all  at  once  those  beautiful  lines  of 


"Entre-Nous"  243 

Browning  came  into  my  head,  and  I  said  them  over 
and  over  again,  till  I  could  have  shouted  them  in  my 
intense  appreciation.  Do  you  know  them,  Henry?" 

"No,  I  think  not." 

"  Then  I  will  repeat  them  and  feast  your  ear : 

"  Grow  old  along  with  me ! 

The  best  is  yet  to  be, 
The  last  of  life,  for  which  the  first  was  made: 

Our  times  are  in  His  hand 

Who  saith  '  A  whole  I  planned, 
Youth  shows  but  half;  trust  God: 
See  all  nor  be  afraid ! ' ' 

"  That's  not  so  bad,"  returned  Mr.  Torrance.  "  But 
I  am  not  so  sure  I  agree  with  Browning.  I  think  the 
first  half  is  the  best.  It  is  awfully  jolly  to  be  young 
and  have  one's  life  before  one." 

"  But  how  about  the  people  who  are  growing  old  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know ;  I  have  not  thought  much  about 
that;  it  does  not  seem  to  appeal  to  me,  somehow." 

"  Why  not  ? "  a  little  abruptly.  "  I  should  have 
thought  it  was  a  matter  that  concerns  us  all." 

"  Well,  you  see,  the  Torrances  have  never  been  a 
long-lived  family.  My  father,  uncles,  and  grandfather 
were  comparatively  in  their  prime  when  they  died,  and 
so  I  have  got  into  the  habit  of  thinking  that  old  age 
and  I  would  never  shake  hands." 

Mr.  Torrance's  manner  was  a  little  detached,  as 
though  the  subject  did  not  interest  him.  Then  for 
a  moment  Margaret's  lips  were  pressed  together  as 
though  with  sudden  pain,  but  the  next  minute  the  cloud 
vanished,  and  she  looked  at  him  with  her  old  beautiful 
smile. 

"  Yes,  I  see  what  you  mean ;  but  there  is  no  need 
to  be  superstitious.  You  may  make  an  old  man  yet, 
Henry ;  and  if  not,"  and  her  voice  was  steady  and  sweet, 
"  we  know  that  all  will  be  for  the  best."  And  then 
rather  quickly  she  changed  the  subject,  and  Harold  had 
joined  them. 


244  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Maureen  had  just  arrived  at  this  point  of  her  reflec- 
tions, when  she  caught  sight  of  a  gleam  of  white  through 
the  trees,  and  the  next  moment  Ruth  tipped  across  the 
grass.  Maureen  shook  herself  mentally,  and  hurried 
towards  her. 

"  Oh,  Ruth,  what  an  unexpected  pleasure.  You  so 
seldom  come  in  the  morning.  Aunt  Margaret  has  gone 
to  her  district,  and  I  am  all  by  my  little  self  until 
luncheon."  Maureen  was  trying  to  be  cheerful,  but  for 
once  Ruth  did  not  respond  with  her  usual  brightness. 

"  I  am  to  have  luncheon  at  the  Rectory.  Mrs.  Whit- 
worth  sent  a  note  this  morning.  She  wants  me  to  show 
her  that  new  stitch ;  it  is  rather  a  bore  this  warm  after- 
noon, but  I  could  not  refuse  the  poor  old  thing." 

Ruth  spoke  listlessly,  and  as  though  she  were  think- 
ing of  something  else. 

"  Poor  Ruth,  and  you  do  look  so  tired !  " 

"  No,  not  tired,  only  worried.  Just  fancy,  Aunt 
Sophy  wants  me  to  go  to  them  a  week  earlier,  because 
they  will  be  going  back  to  Westcombe  Lodge  sooner 
than  they  expected.  Romney  is  so  tiresome.  I  told 
him  that  a  fortnight  at  Scarborough  would  be  quite 
long  enough,  but  he  would  not  listen  to  me.  He  said 
I  must  consider  Aunt  Sophy's  wishes,  so  I  am  to  go 
up  to  town  on  Friday,  and  travel  down  to  Scarborough 
on  Saturday  with  Uncle  George  and  Percy." 

This  was  quite  a  shock  to  Maureen.  "  Oh  dear,  oh 
dear,"  she  lamented,  "  and  I  have  only  just  parted  with 
Harold."  Then  a  faint  rosebud  flush  came  to  Ruth's 
face. 

"  Oh,  by  the  bye,  I  have  never  asked  after  your 
brother,"  she  returned,  as  she  fingered  the  little  em- 
broidered kerchief  she  wore ;  "  he  went  quite  early,  did 
he  not?" 

"  Oh  yes,  he  is  at  his  desk  by  this  time,  poor  dear 
boy!  Isn't  it  hard  for  him,  after  three  weeks'  freedom? 
But  he  went  off  as  bravely  as  possible.  Harold  never 
fusses  when  a  thing  has  to  be  done." 


"Entre-Nous"  245 

"  So  I  should  imagine ;  but,  of  course,  I  know  how 
you  must  miss  him.'' 

"  Yes,  but  I  do  not  mean  Aunt  Maggie  to  see  it ;  she 
has  given  us  both  such  a  splendid  treat.  By  the  bye, 
Ruth,  I  meant  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  you  this  morning, 
but  on  second  thoughts  I  won't.  But  you  were  a  bad 
little  person  to  deprive  me  of  my  dear  boy's  company 
that  last  afternoon;  tea  was  over  long  before  he  turned 
up." 

"  Oh,  Maureen,  I  am  so  sorry ;  but,  indeed,  it  was  not 
my  fault.  I  reminded  him  more  than  once  of  the  time, 
and  Romney  told  me  that  I  was  most  inhospitable,  but 
your  brother  would  not  move."  Ruth  looked  conscious 
and  a  tiny  bit  nervous.  "  He  said  he  was  lazy,  and  that 
the  chair  was  so  comfortable,  and  then  he  and  Romney 
went  on  talking." 

"  That  sounds  as  though  you  were  all  very  cheerful." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  returned  Ruth,  innocently  nibbling  at 
Maureen's  bait.  "  They  both  seemed  in  good  spirits, 
and  talked  over  all  kinds  of  impossible  plans  for  next 
summer.  But  I  am  sorry  he  stayed  away  from  you  so 
long  on  his  last  afternoon." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  that,"  replied  Maureen,  good- 
humouredly ;  "  and  we  had  a  nice  little  walk  together 
after  evening  service.  Oh,  must  you  go,  Ruth?"  as  the 
girl  got  up  a  little  quickly  from  her  chair.  "  Oh  yes, 
I  remember,  Mrs.  \Yhit\vorth  has  luncheon  so  early." 
And  then  she  accompanied  her  friend  to  the  door ;  but 
there  was  a  little  pucker  on  Maureen's  smooth  forehead 
as  she  went  back  to  the  tennis-lawn.  Harold  had  been 
in  good  spirits  and  talked,  and  had  evidently  enjoyed 
himself  at  Marsh  Hall,  and  yet  how  grave  he  had  been 
all  the  remainder  of  the  evening.  When  Maureen  had 
alluded  to  her  home-coming,  and  had  dwelt  with  a  girl's 
joyous  anticipations  on  seeing1  them  all  again,  his 
answers  had  been  slightly  absent.  Even  when  Maureen 
lamented  that  she  would  only  have  dive's  company  for 
a  few  days,  as  a  holiday  engagement  would  keep  him 


246  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

in  the  North  until  a  week  before  he  went  back  to  Oxford, 
Harold  hardly  responded.  It  was  only  as  they  were 
retracing  their  steps,  and  were  crossing  the  Rectory 
meadow,  that  he  said  a  little  abruptly: 

"  Miss  Chaytor  tells  me  that  she  will  be  back  in 
town  about  the  fourth  of  October.  I  suppose  you  will 
go  over  and  see  her  the  first  Saturday." 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  take  me,"  had  been  Maureen's 
reply.  But  the  gathering  dusk  hid  Harold's  smile  of 
satisfaction, 


XXVII 

TOBIAS  JOINS  THE  SUPPER-PARTY 

So  long  as  we  love,  we  serve;  so  long  as  we  are  loved  by 
others  I  would  say  that  we  are  indispensable ;  and  no  man  is 
useless  while  he  has  a  friend. — ROBERT  Louis  STEVENSON. 

All  one's  life  is  a  music  if  one  touches  the  notes  rightly  and 
in  time. — RUSKIN. 

MAUREEN  did  not  long  perplex  herself  with  problems 
which  she  could  not  well  answer.  She  was  a  very 
healthy-minded  young-  person,  and  quite  agreed  with  the 
old  saint's  opinion,  that  cheerfulness  was  one  of  the 
first  of  Christian  duties.  And  the  better  to  achieve  this 
highly-coveted  virtue,  she  began  to  explain  away,  very 
comfortably,  any  special  cause  for  Harold's  baffling 
reserve. 

He  was  tired,  and  it  was  only  natural  that  he  should 
feel  a  little  flattened  out  at  the  idea  of  going  back  to 
the  daily  grind — she  would  have  felt  the  same  in  his 
place.  If  there  had  been  any  little  misunderstanding 
with  Ruth,  they  must  certainly  have  set  it  right  that 
Sunday  afternoon,  or  Harold  would  not  have  stayed 
so  long,  and  have  been  in  such  good  spirits;  and  if,  as 
Maureen  was  indeed,  however,  obliged  to  confess,  the 
good  spirits  had  been  conspicuous  by  their  absence  that 
evening,  still,  no  doubt,  he  was  a  little  low  at  bidding 
his  Marsh  Hall  friends  good-bye.  They  had  been  so 
kind  and  hospitable.  And  here  Maureen  became  exceed- 
ingly cheerful  again. 

She  and  Margaret  each  had  a  letter  from  Harold 
the  following  afternoon.  Maureen  thought  hers  nicer 
than  usual.  He  missed  them  very  much,  he  wrote,  but 
his  visit  to  the  Garden  House  would  always  be  a  delight- 
ful memory.  But  he  was  already  hard  at  work,  and 
it  was  evident  that  his  father  had  needed  him.  Just 

247 


248  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

at  the  last  there  was  a  message  to  Ruth — "  Will  you  tell 
Miss  Chaytor  that  I  have  ordered  that  song  I  mentioned, 
and  the  people  will  send  it  down  to  Marsh  Hall?  I 
know  it  will  exactly  suit  her  voice.  My  kindest  regards 
to  her  and  Chaytor,  if  you  see  him." 

Maureen  saw  a  good  deal  of  Ruth  during  the  next 
day  or  two.  But  she  did  not  come  across  Mr.  Chaytor 
until  Saturday  afternoon.  Ruth  had  left  Branksmere 
the  previous  day.  She  was  walking  down  High  Street 
when  she  saw  the  motor  standing  before  the  saddler's 
and  as  Mr.  Chaytor  greeted  her  she  stopped  to  speak 
to  him,  and  to  ask  if  he  had  heard  of  Ruth's  arrival. 

"  To  be  sure  I  have,"  he  answered ;  "  I  sent  Gale  to 
town  with  her,  and  he  saw  her  safe  to  Westcombe  Lodge. 
She  is  on  her  way  to  Scarborough  now." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  must  miss  her  very  much." 

"  Well,  hardly  as  much  as  you  think.  Gale  and  I 
are  exceedingly  busy.  We  are  going  off  quite  early 
on  Monday,  and  I  do  not  expect  to  return  to  Marsh 
Hall  until  the  beginning  of  'November." 

"  Ruth  told  me  that  you  were  going  to  Westmorland." 

"  Yes,  Westmorland  and  Cumberland,  and  probably 
Yorkshire,  too.  If  the  weather  holds  up  we  shall  have 
a  famous  time.  You  look  as  though  you  rather  envy 
me,  Miss  Brydon." 

"  Well,  it  must  be  rather  nice,"  confessed  Maureen, 
"  to  see  something  fresh  every  day ;  to  stop  when  one 
likes,  and  to  go  on  when  one  is  inclined.  You  ought 
to  write  a  diary." 

"  Well,  I  always  do,  in  a  rough  and  ready  sort  of 
way,  just  to  keep  things  fresh  in  my  mind.  By  the  bye, 
I  wonder  if  Miss  Brydon  would  think  me  a  very  intrusive 
sort  of  person  if  I  invited  myself  to  supper  to-morrow 
evening?  Do  you  happen  to  know  if  she  objects  to 
Sunday  visitors  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  an  idea,"  returned  Maureen,  frankly ; 
"  for  no  one  ever  comes  except  Mr.  Torrance  occasion- 
ally, and  we  never  treat  him  as  a  visitor.  Oh,  I  remem- 


Tobias  Joins  the  Supper-Party         249 

her,  Aunt  Margaret  told  me  she  had  asked  him  to  come 
in  to-morrow,  as  Joanna  would  be  out." 

"  Then  perhaps  I  shall  be  de  trap."  But  Maureen 
disclaimed  this  with  great  energy. 

"  Aunt  Margaret  never  finds  any  of  her  friends  in 
the  way.  I  am  quite  sure  she  will  be  very  pleased  to 
see  you,  Mr.  Chaytor,  so  I  hope  you  will  come.  Aunt 
Margaret  will  make  no  difference,"  she  continued.  "  The 
servants  will  have  their  walk  after  church  as  usual,  and 
we  shall  just  wait  on  ourselves.  Aunt  Margaret  will 
light  the  lamps,  and  Mr.  Torrance  will  help  her  mix  the 
salad ;  and  I  shall  bring  in  the  supper  dishes ;  and  the 
moths  will  come  fluttering  out  of  the  bushes,  and  there 
is  no  Harold  to  prevent  their  committing  suicide.  And 

if  they  fall  into  your  glass  of  claret "  Then  Mr. 

Chaytor  laughed. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  can  resist  anything  so  delightfully 
Bohemian.  Will  you  tell  your  aunt,  Miss  Brydon,  that 
I  mean  to  trespass  on  her  hospitality?  " 

Maureen  nodded,  and  her  white  teeth  gleamed  with 
pleasure.  "  How  very  very  nice  and  friendly  of  Mr. 
Chaytor,"  she  thought,  as  she  walked  up  the  street. 
"  Aunt  Maggie  will  be  so  pleased."  But  she  had  no 
idea  of  the  quiet  intent  look  that  followed  her. 

Romney  Chaytor  sighed,  as  though  the  sight  of  that 
girlish  figure,  so  full  of  life  and  activity,  stirred  him  to 
some  vague  regret.  "  She  is  not  the  least  beautiful," 
he  said  to  himself ;  "  but  she  has  a  certain  charm  about 
her — the  charm  of  sincerity  and  a  good  heart.  I  should 
not  wonder  if  she  turn  out  the  same  kind  of  woman  as 
her  aunt  when  she  is  older,  and  life  has  given  her  some 
experience."  This  was  certainly  a  high  compliment  on 
Romney  Charter's  part,  for  he  had  always  admired 
Margaret  Brydon,  and  had  secretly  marvelled  at  his 
friend's  blindness.  "  How  could  Torrance  let  such  a 
woman  slip  between  his  fingers  ? "  he  often  thought. 
"  His  wife  was  a  graceful  person,  I  remember ;  but  some- 
how she  never  interested  me.  To  be  sure  I  was  very 


250  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

young.  Margaret  Brydon  was  a  cut  above  her,  and 
perhaps  above  him  too." 

Maureen  was  right.  Margaret  was  very  much 
pleased  by  Mr.  Chaytor's  friendliness.  "  I  will  send  a 
little  note,  and  tell  him  that  he  deserves  a  good  mark," 
she  said,  smilingly. 

"  Will  there  be  enough  for  supper,  Aunt  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Bless  the  child,  yes !  I  hope  a  cold  chicken  and 
that  knuckle  of  ham,  and  salad,  will  feed  two  men." 

"  I  told  him  you  would  make  no  difference " ;  but 
Margaret  evidently  did  not  consider  this  remark  needed 
an  answer.  What  was  good  enough  for  Henry  Tor- 
ranee  was  certainly  good  enough  for  Mr.  Chaytor.  It 
would  not  have  entered  her  head  to  order  another  sweet. 

"  How  I  wish  you  could  be  with  us  this  evening, 
Harold  dear !  "  Maureen  wrote  that  afternoon.  But  for 
once  Harold  did  not  echo  the  wish.  Perhaps  he  thought 
that  Branksmere  without  a  certain  little  lady  in  white, 
was  rather  like  the  play  of  Hamlet  without  the  Prince 
of  Denmark;  and  that  he  was  equally  well  off  in  the 
Homestead  garden. 

Everything  happened  as  Maureen  had  prophesied. 
Margaret  lighted  the  lamps,  and  she  herself  went  to 
and  fro  with  the  dishes.  Henry  Torrance  mixed  the 
salad,  because  Margaret  never  would  put  in  enough  oil. 
It  was  a  long-standing  grievance — neither  of  them  would 
give  way — so  it  was  tacitly  understood  that  Mr. 
Torrance  should  take  the  responsibility  on  himself. 
Margaret  always  shut  her  eyes  when  she  saw  the  flask  in 
his  hand,  in  the  same  way  as  she  did  when  she  was 
digging.  But  as  she  always  had  a  second  help  of  the 
salad,  Henry  Torrance  secretly  triumphed.  Maureen 
forgot  to  miss  Harold  after  a  time — a  quartette  was 
certainly  very  agreeable,  she  thought.  When  Mr.  Tor- 
rance rose  rather  suddenly  from  the  table  because  the 
mournful  and  protesting  voice  of  a  luckless  Tobias,  left 
like  the  Peri  outside  the  gate  of  Paradise,  had  reached 
his  ear,  Margaret  went  with  him  to  the  door. 

"That  creature  is  more  like  a  dog    than    a    cat/* 


Tobias  Joins  the  Supper-Party         251 

remarked  Maureen ;  "  he  is  absolutely  devoted  to  his 
master.  And  then  they  both  smilingly  awaited  the 
return  of  the  search  party.  And  lo  and  behold,  Tobias, 
with  uplifted  tail  and  purring  voice,  led  the  procession, 
until  the  sight  of  the  collie  made  him  spring  with  one 
bound  to  his  master's  shoulder,  where  he  spent  the  re- 
mainder of  the  evening  washing  himself  with  great 
energy,  and  now  and  then  gently  patting  his  master's 
ear,  as  a  reminder  that  chicken  would  be  acceptable. 

"  This  will  be  good-bye  for  some  time,"  observed  Mr. 
Chaytor  to  Maureen  when  supper  was  over.  "  Ruth 
is  a  very  constant  correspondent,  and  I  daresay  there 
will  be  some  mention  of  you  in  her  letters.  In 
November,  I  hope  we  shall  meet  and  tell  all  our 
adventures." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  hope  so."  But  as  Maureen  turned  away, 
she  thought  how  very  kindly  Mr.  Chaytor  had  looked 
at  her.  "  I  think  he  is  beginning  to  like  me  a  little," 
thought  the  girl  humbly,  with  a  strange  glow  of  pleasure. 
But  she  had  no  idea  that  the  same  thought  had  suddenly 
occurred  to  Margaret. 

"  Maureen  really  looked  quite  pretty  to-night,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "  But  I  don't  want  Romney  Chaytor 
to  turn  my  little  girl's  head ;  because,  as  Henry  says, 
he  is  not  a  marrying  man,  and  he  is  already  a  sort  of 
glorified  hero  in  her  eyes — the  Viking  as  they  call  him. 

"  One  of  these  days,  please  God,  I  hope  some  sensible 
man  will  fall  in  love  with  the  child,  and  make  her  a 
good  husband.  How  pleased  Dan  and  Anna  would  be! 
Anna  does  so  want  her  girls  to  marry  and  have  homes 
of  their  own.  '  It  would  be  too  sad,'  she  said  to  me 
once,  '  if  my  poor  old  Dan  has  to  work  for  them  all  his 
life,  or  for  them  to  be  obliged  to  work  for  themselves.' 
But  I  never  will  let  Anna  say  these  things ;  for,  of  course, 
in  this  best  of  worlds,  as  I  tell  her,  everything  must 
be  right,  and  if  girls  are  trained  properly,  they  can  work 
as  well  as  their  brothers.  Not  that  I  would  not  be 
pleased  to  see  Irene  and  Maureen  in  nice  little  homes  of 
their  own,  with  good  husbands  to  look  after  them  and 


252  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

keep  things  smooth,  and  little  prattling  voices  to  call 
them  mother.  But  there,  it  is  not  in  my  hands  or  Anna's 
either;  and  it  is  not  for  us  to  play  Providence.  And 
what  will  be,  must  be;  and  we  must  just  put  up  with 
it."  For  Margaret's  bright  philosophy  seldom  deserted 
her. 

Long  ago  Margaret  had  accepted  her  fate,  and  now 
she  was  reaping  her  reward  in  quiet  content.  For  in 
this  life  there  are  many  fierce  battles  fought  and  blood- 
less victories  gained.  There  is  no  noisy  blare  of  drum 
and  trumpet,  no  spectators;  in  darkness  and  secrecy, 
in  pain  and  with  failing  courage,  those  deathless  laurels 
are  won.  But  if  no  human  applause  greet  the  weary 
victor,  the  invisible  hands  of  his  guardian  angel  crown 
him  and  speed  him  on  his  way. 

The  next  few  weeks  passed  very  quietly.  Margaret 
went  up  to  town  one  day  for  a  shopping  expedition, 
and  left  Maureen  to  keep  house  for  a  night.  She  re- 
turned laden  with  parcels  and  her  purse  considerably 
lightened.  She  had  not  forgotten  Maureen.  She  had 
chosen  for  her  a  coat  and  skirt  suitable  for  autumn 
wear,  which  could  easily  be  altered  to  fit  her,  and  two 
charming  blouses. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  rather  extravagant  over 
my  own  clothes,"  she  observed ;  "  but  I  must  have  decent 
things  for  Red  Brae.  Mrs.  Macdonald  always  dresses 
so  beautifully,  and  she  would  not  like  me  to  be  shabby; 
and  that  dark  red  velveteen  will  make  me  a  lovely  dinner- 
dress,  and  suit  me  exactly.  It  really  looks  like  velvet, 
Maureen  " ;  and  Margaret  fingered  the  material  lovingly. 

The  preparations  for  their  visits,  and  long  interviews 
with  their  respective  dressmakers,  kept  them  brisk  and 
busy.  Maureen  wrote  shorter  letters  than  usual  because 
she  was  going  home  so  soon,  but  she  heard  from  Ruth 
constantly.  There  seemed  a  great  deal  going  on  at  Scar- 
borough— walking  and  riding  parties,  and  expeditions  of 
all  sorts.  But  Ruth  did  not  write  as  though  she  were 
happy.  She  complained  of  the  endless  doings: 


Tobias  Joins  the  Supper-Party         253 

"I  am  as  tired  as  possible,"  she  wrote.  "At  night  I  per- 
fectly ache  with  fatigue,  and  Olivia  and  Gwendoline  call  this 
pleasure ;  but  they  are  all  so  strong.  And  since  Mr.  Le  Marchant 
came  down,  Olivia  is  always  contriving  things  for  his  amuse- 
ment, but  Doris  and  I  grumble  dreadfully. 

"  I  wish  Aunt  Sophy  would  let  me  stay  at  home  sometimes. 
There  is  such  a  delightful  balcony  at  the  hotel  where  one  can 
sit  and  look  at  the  sea,  but  she  never  seems  willing  to  leave 
me  behind.  The  only  time  she  did  so  Percy  stayed  too,  and 
he  was  so  tiresome  that  we  nearly  quarrelled,  and  I  went  to 
my  bedroom  to  get  rid  of  him. 

"  I  don't  know  what  has  come  to  Percy  lately,  but  he 
makes  me  so  uncomfortable.  And  if  I  try  to  keep  him  in  order 
Aunt  Sophy  looks  hurt,  and  wonders  how  I  can  behave  so  to 
the  poor  fellow.  But  somehow  I  don't  seem  to  care  for  him 
as  I  used." 

"  I  do  believe  he  is  making  love  to  her,"  thought 
Maureen,  indignantly.  "  Poor  dear  Ruth !  what  a  shame 
that  she  should  be  worried  like  this !  "  But  she  prudently 
kept  this  part  of  Ruth's  letter  to  herself. 

"  I  am  afraid  poor  Ruth  is  not  enjoying  herself  a  bit,"  she 
wrote  to  Harold.  "  They  seem  tiring  her  out.  They  are  a 
perfect  colony — for  the  married  sons  are  there  with  their  wives 
and  families,  and  Olivia  has  her  fiance,  and  Gwendoline  has 
a  girl  friend;  and  they  are  doing  things  from  morning  to 
night.  I  never  saw  such  people !  They  seem  as  strong  as 
horses,  and  quite  impervious  to  fatigue.  Ruth  tells  me  her 
brother  is  having  a  splendid  time  in  Westmorland.  When  he 
last  wrote  he  was  at  a  place  called  Shap,  in  a  queer  old  house 
on  the  moor." 

But  this  was  no  news  to  Harold,  who  had  just  received 
a  long  chatty  letter  from  Shap. 

A  day  or  two  later  Margaret  received  a  beautifully 
packed  hamper  of  Westmorland  ferns  for  her  rock- 
garden,  with  minute  directions  for  planting  and 
treatment. 

"  Well,  if  the  Viking  is  not  a  good  fellow !  "  ex- 
claimed Margaret.  "  It  is  only  a  note,  Maureen,  but 
he  sends  his  kindest  regards  to  my  niece,  and  hopes  that 
both  the  ladies  will  have  pleasant  visits."  And  then 
Margaret  bustled  off  to  put  on  her  gardening  pinafore, 


254  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

and  for  the  rest  of  the  morning  she  and  Maureen  were 
busy  planting  the  ferns. 

Margaret  had  arranged  that  she  and  Maureen  should 
travel  up  to  town  together.  She  would  sleep  at  an  hotel 
that  night,  and  start  for  Scotland  the  next  morning; 
and  Daniel  Brydon  had  promised  to  meet  them  at  the 
station  and  take  Maureen  home.  They  would  have  tea 
with  Margaret  at  her  hotel,  and  get  down  to  the  Home- 
stead in  time  for  dinner.  Maureen  thought  this  arrange- 
ment lovely,  and  her  delight  at  seeing  her  father  made 
her  almost  forget  that  she  was  parting  from  Margaret. 
"  But  you  are  to-  come  to  the  Homestead  for  a  whole 
week,"  she  observed  cheerfully,  as  she  bid  her  good- 
bye ;  "  and  I  mean  to  write  you  such  long  letters."  And 
Margaret  smiled  and  nodded,  and  then  stood  at  the 
window  waving  to  them  as  long  as  the  cab  was  in  sight. 

Margaret  was  not  quite  as  cheerful  as  she  appeared. 
Every  year  she  disliked  leaving  home  more,  unless  she 
was  going  to  the  Homestead. 

She  had  found  it  hard  work  to  bid  good-bye  to 
Master  and  her  garden,  and  she  feared  her  old  friend, 
Henry  Torrance,  would  miss  her.  He  was  not  going 
away  for  another  month  or  five  weeks,  and  would  prob- 
ably only  start  for  his  holiday  a  day  or  two  before  they 
returned.  And  Margaret  was  very  sorry  for  this. 

Mr.  Torrance  had  worked  hard  all  the  summer,  and 
she  was  convinced  he  needed  a  long  change.  A  fort- 
night at  Paris  in  November  would  hardly  set  him  up 
for  the  winter,  but  she  could  not  induce  him  to  see  this. 

"  The  long  and  short  of  it  is,  I  cannot  take  a  good 
holiday  this  year,"  he  had  said  to  her  in  so  decided  a 
voice  and  manner  that  Margaret  said  no  more.  What 
was  the  use  of  wasting  words,  she  thought,  when  a  man 
had  made  up  his  mind.  For  Margaret  was  a  wise 
woman  and  recognised  the  extent  of  her  influence. 

"  Henry  is  not  managing  well  this  year,"  she  said  to 
herself.  And  it  made  her  a  little  sad  to  remember  that 
the  Garden  House  would  be  empty  so  long. 


XXVIII 

"THERE'S    NO    PLACE    LIKE    HOME" 

Put  love  into  the  world,  and  heaven  with  all  its  beatitudes 
and  glories  becomes  a  reality.  .  .  .  Love  is  everything;  it 
is  the  key  to  life,  and  its  influences  are  those  that  move  the 
world. — R.  WALDO  TRINE. 

There  is  no  music  like  the  voice  of  those  we  love. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

WHAT  that  home-coming  meant  to  Maureen  was 
only  known  to  herself;  but  for  once  reality  exceeded 
anticipation. 

"  It  was  worth  while  going  away  to  have  such  a  welcome," 
she  wrote  the  next  morning  to  Margaret.  "When  the  door 
opened  there  was  mother  and  all  the  girls  behind  her.  Fancy 
mother  being  the  first !  Was  it  not  sweet  of  her  ?  " 

Then  a  dreamy  look  came  into  Margaret's  eyes,  and 
she  put  down  the  letter  for  a  moment. 

"  I  wonder  if  we  shall  feel  like  that  when  we  go 
Home  ?  "  she  said  to  herself.  "  That  nothing  matters — 
the  loneliness,  the  pain,  or  the  long  weariness  of  life; 
that  it  was  all  '  worth  while/  as  the  chihd  said.  We  shall 
not  remember,  surely,  the  heaviness  of  our  cross  when 
the  door  opens  and  we  see  the  Father's  smile." 

Maureen  was  inexpressibly  touched  by  the  unusual 
warmth  of  her  mother's  greeting  kiss.  Anna's  daughters, 
dearly  as  they  loved  her,  did  not  always  recognise  the 
intensity  of  the  maternal  passion  hidden  under  her  calm 
self-restraint.  They  trusted  her  implicitly;  she  was 
always  good  and  kind  to  them,  but  her  lack  of  demon- 
strative tenderness,  and  a  certain  severity  of  judgment, 
rather  veiled  her  inward  softness,  and  made  them 
sometimes  turn  to  their  father  for  sympathy. 

"  Mother  will  think  me  so  silly,"  Lois  said  once.  "  I 

255 


256  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

dare  not  tell  her.  She  would  only  advise  me  not  to  give 
way  and  think  of  my  feelings;  and  she  does  not  know 
how  wretched  these  headaches  make  one — that  I  am 
not  really  shirking  things." 

"  Then  I  shall  tell  her,"  returned  Sybil,  who  was 
always  brave  for  her  twin,  and  who  was  not  too  thin- 
skinned  to  take  a  snub  with  tolerable  equanimity. 

Unfortunately  Sybil,  with  girlish  want  of  tact,  chose 
a  wrong  moment  for  detailing  Lois's  grievances.  Anna 
was  tired  and  busy  with  parish  accounts,  and  a  worried 
frown  attended  Sybil's  story. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  spoil  Lois  dreadfully,"  she  said, 
rather  coldly.  "  I  know  she  is  not  strong,  but  you  ought 
not  give  way  to  her  as  you  do,  Sybil;  it  is  not  real 
kindness.  But  I  will  see  about  it  presently;  I  am  too 
busy  now."  And  then  poor  Sybil  left  the  room  feeling 
that  she  had  failed  in  her  mission. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  muddled  things  dreadfully," 
she  said  to  herself.  "  But  mother  is  in  one  of  her  uncom- 
fortable moods,  and  I  am  sure  she  will  be  sharp 
with  Lois." 

Sybil  need  not  have  feared.  Anna  was  a  woman 
who  could  only  do  one  thing  at  a  time.  Lois's  headache 
had  to  give  way  to  parish  accounts,  but  she  was  only 
biding  her  time. 

A  little  observation  during  luncheon  soon  proved  to 
her  that  Sybil  had  not  overstated  facts.  There  was  no 
comment  on  Lois's  untouched  plate,  but  when  the  meal 
was  over  her  mother,  in  the  kindest  voice,  bade  her  lie 
down  on  her  bed  and  try  and  get  some  sleep.  "  Sybil 
will  tuck  you  up  and  darken  the  room,  and  I  will  send 
you  up  some  tea  later  on.  Do  not  attempt  to  get  up 
until  I  see  you."  And  in  spite  of  the  pain  poor  Lois 
felt  comforted. 

No  one  was  kinder  than  Anna  when  one  of  her  girls 
was  really  ill,  and  all  that  evening  and  the  next  day 
Lois  was  watched  and  tended  by  her  mother. 

"  Poor  little  soul,  I  wish  she  were  stronger ! "  she 


'There's  No  Place  Like  Home"      257 

.said  that  night  to  Dan.  "  She  is  such  a  pretty  creature, 
too;  I  should  have  liked  you  to  see  her  with  her  hair 
streaming  over  her  shoulders.  It  gave  me  rather  a 
qualm  to  see  how  like  a  little  angel  she  looked."  But 
Dan  only  smiled — all  his  girls  were  beautiful  in  his 
eyes. 

"  My  dear  child,  how  delightful  to  have  you  at  home 
again ! "  were  Anna's  first  words  as  she  greeted 
Maureen ;  and  then  the  sisters  crowded  round  her, 
and  a  perfect  bunch  of  girls  carried  her  off  to  the 
drawing-room. 

Maureen  looked  around  it  in  a  silent  ecstasy.  The 
dear  old  room,  how  cosy  and  homelike  it  looked !  Its 
very  shabbiness — the  old  faded  carpet  which  was  still 
too  good  to  replace,  the  old-fashioned  cretonnes — 
appealed  to  her  strongly.  "  After  all,  there's  no  place 
like  home,"  she  said  to  herself.  Ah,  there  was  her 
mother's  work-table,  with  her  old  battered  thimble  on 
it.  Maureen  flew  across  the  room  and  captured  it. 

"  I  shall  carry  it  off  as  a  keepsake,"  she  said.  "  Look, 
mother,  I  have  brought  you  a  new  one — such  a  beauty 
— and  you  shall  not  use  that  old  thing  any  longer.  And 
Aunt  Margaret  has  sent  you  this  lovely  case  of  scissors, 
because  she  is  sure  you  must  need  them  for  your  cutting 
out." 

"  That  was  very  kmd  of  her,  and  you,  too,  dear  " ; 
and  the  worn,  handsome  face  had  a  very  soft  expression. 
It  touched  her  to  think  that  Maureen  would  treasure 
up  her  old  thimble  as  a  keepsake. 

Aunt  Margaret  had  sent  many  pretty  little  gifts  to 
her  nieces,  which  Maureen  distributed  as  soon  as  she 
reached  her  room.  How  small  it  looked  after  her  room 
at  the  Garden  House,  and  yet  how  glad  she  was  to  be 
in  it  again. 

Mrs.  Brydon  had  ordered  dinner  half  an  hour  later, 

so  there  was  no  hurry.      There  were  plenty  of  willing 

helpers.     Irene  and  the  Tweenies  unpacked,  and  they 

all  got  into  each  other's  way,  and  Maureen    sat    and 

17 


258  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

laughed  at  them;  for  there  was  really  no  room  for  them 
to  move,  and  Ivy's  long  legs  seemed  always  tripping 
some  one  up.  It  became  necessary  at  last  to  throw  up 
the  window  to  give  them  air,  but  nothing  prevented  them 
from  all  taking  at  once.  Maureen  vainly  tried  to  make 
herself  heard ;  but  as  soon  as  the  big  box  had  been  emp- 
tied and  dragged  away,  there  was  a  momentary  lull,  and 
she  repeated  her  question.  "  She  was  sure  that  she 
had  heard  the  door-bell.  Was  it  Harold  who  had  come 
in?" 

"  No ;  it  was  Ninian !  Had  no  one  told  her  that 
Harold  had  had  to  go  rather  a  distance  on  business,  and 
father  thought  he  would  be  very  late.  Some  dinner 
would  be  saved  for  him  " ;  all  this  delivered  in  Ivy's 
shrill  tones.  Then  Irene's  soft  voice  intervened. 

"  Oh,  what  lovely  blouses,  Maureen !  I  suppose 
Aunt  Margaret  gave  them  to  you?  Yes,  and  this  must 
be  the  coat  and  skirt  she  got  at  Gorring's.  What  a  lucky 
girl  you  are !  "  And  Irene  breathed  a  scarcely  audible 
sigh.  Her  coat  and  skirt  had  seen  two  seasons,  and  was 
by  no  means  fresh. 

Just  then  the  dinner-bell  rang  and  there  was  a  gen- 
eral exclamation — they  had  so  nearly  finished;  but  never 
mind,  the  Tweenies  would  clear  up  after  dinner.  Sybil 
seized  one  arm  and  Lois  the  other,  and  Irene  and  Ivy 
followed  them.  Anna  smiled  as  she  caught  sight  of 
the  little  procession.  How  she  had  missed  that  dear 
brown  face,  she  thought,  and  the  smile  which  was  like 
sunshine  to  her ! 

Maureen  was  sorry  to  miss  Harold  on  her  first 
evening,  but  she  could  give  her  attention  more  fully  to 
the  others.  She  had  time  to  notice  how  grown  Ninian 
seemed,  and  what  a  nice-looking  fellow  he  was.  And 
then  there  was  Clive's  last  letter  to  discuss;  he  was 
having  such  a  good  time  at  Beechcroft. 

"  The  Bagots  seem  such  nice  people,"  observed  Mrs. 
Brydon  in  a  satisfied  voice.  "  Clive  seems  quite  to  have 
taken  to  them.  The  only  girl  is  a  child  of  twelve,  and 


'  There's  Xo  Place  Like  Home  "      259 

he  says  his  pupil  is  a  nice  bright  fellow;  only  very  deli- 
cate. I  think  they  seem  to  like  Clive,  for  they  take  him 
about  with  them  everywhere." 

"  Mother,"  exclaimed  Sybil,  "  you  must  show  Mau- 
reen the  new  photo  that  Clive  sent  you !  "  and  Mrs. 
Brydon  nodded  assent.  And  then  the  photograph  was 
produced  for  Maureen's  inspection,  and  studied  carefully. 

"  He  looks  rather  like  Harold,"  were  her  first  words. 
But  she  was  wrong;  there  was  really  very  little  resem- 
blance between  the  brothers  beyond  a  mere  family 
likeness.  Clive  was  fair,  and  looked  very  young  for 
his  age.  His  features  were  less  clearly  cut  than  Harold's, 
and  he  was  not  nearly  so  good-looking.  His  eyes  were 
nice,  and  his  forehead  showed  intellectual  power,  and 
altogether  it  was  a  pleasing,  earnest  young  face;  and 
Maureen  looked  long  and  lovingly  at  it. 

"  And  I  shall  only  have  him  for  a  few  days,"  she 
said,  sorrowfully. 

But  her  mother  reminded  her  that  this  holiday  en- 
gagement had  been  such  a  good  thing  for  Clive.  It 
had  not  only  given  him  the  change  he  needed,  and  put 
money  in  his  pocket,  but  it  had  widened  his  connections. 
"  The  Bagots  are  county  people,"  she  continued,  "  and 
their  friends  are  very  nice ;  it  must  be  for  Clive's  interest 
to  be  with  them." 

"  I  am  afraid  your  mother  is  a  designing  woman, 
Maureen,"  observed  Daniel,  in  an  amused  tone.  "  The 
Bagots  have  a  family  living  at  their  disposal " ;  but 
Anna  shook  her  head  at  him. 

"  That  is  too  bad  of  you,  my  dear."  But  there  was 
a  conscious  look  on  her  face  as  though  the  arrow  had 
gone  home.  If  she  had  failed  in  her  own  ambitions, 
she  could  still  be  solicitous  for  her  children's  interests, 
and  perhaps  the  thought  of  that  family  living  had  not 
been  absent  from  her  mind  when  she  had  represented 
the  advantage  of  the  Bagot  connection. 

When  they  went  back  to  the  drawing-room  Daniel 
Brydon  rubbed  his  hands  with  an  air  of  enjoyment  at 


260  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

the  sight  of  a  bright  little  fire.  The  October  evenings 
were  chilly,  and  Anna,  who  studied  her  husband's  com- 
fort on  all  occasions,  loved  to  give  him  these  little  sur- 
prises. She  would  not  have  lighted  a  fire  for  herself, 
if  she  had  felt  ever  so  cold,  but  nothing  was  too  good  for 
the  master. 

The  easy-chair  which  Daniel  generally  used  was  in 
its  accustomed  corner,  and  the  low-cushioned  seat,  which 
was  always  called  "  mother's  chair,"  was  beside  it. 
Daniel  would  have  been  restless  if  his  wife  had  not  been 
near  him. 

"  Capital !  capital ! "  he  murmured,  approvingly. 
"  Jackson  was  only  saying  an  hour  ago  that  there  was 
a  nip  of  frost  in  the  air,  and  mat  the  oak  leaves  were 
turning.  Sit  down,  dear,  and  warm  yourself,  and  one 
of  you  girls  bring  your  mother  her  knitting-basket " ; 
for  there  was  nothing  Dan  liked  better  than  to  see  his 
active  wife  resting  and  her  daughters  waiting  on  her. 
And  Anna  submitted  to  this  arrangement  with  tolerable 
grace. 

Maureen  squeezed  herself  into  her  old  corner  be- 
tween the  fender  stool  and  her  father's  chair,  where  the 
banner  screen  shielded  her.  As  she  did  so  she  heard 
him  say  in  a  low  voice : 

"  What  a  pity  it  is,  love,  that  you  cannot  follow 
Margaret's  example.  She  is  the  most  industrious  and 
the  most  idle  woman  I  know.  I  never  saw  any  one 
do  nothing  as  gracefully  as  Peggy." 

"  Margaret  and  I  have  very  different  temperaments," 
returned  Anna,  smiling.  "  I  am  never  comfortable  un- 
less my  fingers  or  eyes  are  employed.  Ivy,  there  is 
some  wool  to  wind,  and  Lois  and  Sybil  are  upstairs." 

Then  Ivy,  who  was  intent  on  a  thrilling  story-book 
which  Ninian  had  lent  her,  came  forward  with  laggard 
step  and  a  resigned  countenance,  and  proceeded  to  do 
her  duty  in  a  jerky  and  unsatisfactory  manner.  But 
Anna  took  no  notice,  neither  would  she  allow  Maureen 
to  leave  her  snug  corner. 


'  There's  No  Place  Like  Home  "      261 

"  No,  no,  you  must  talk  to  your  father  and  amuse 
him,  and  Ivy  and  I  will  listen.  My  dear,"  in  her  quiet, 
even  voice,  "  if  you  will  only  hold  the  wool  more  steadily, 
I  should  be  able  to  wind  it  more  quickly."  But  Ivy  only 
muttered  that  the  fire  was  so  hot,  and  that  it  was  scorch- 
ing her  face.  Then  Maureen  good-naturedly  moved  the 
screen. 

"  You  are  all  right  now,  Creeper,  aren't  you?  "  And 
Ivy  nodded.  Perhaps  she  was  a  little  ashamed  of  her- 
self, or  her  mother's  silence  was  eloquent,  but  there  was 
outward  peace  in  the  ingle  nook. 

Maureen  chattered  away  to  her  heart's  content,  only 
interrupting  herself  now  and  then  to  wonder  at  the 
lateness  of  the  hour.  The  Tweenies  had  long  ago  tidied 
their  sister's  room  and  joined  the  circle,  and  Ninian  had 
gone  off  to  bed  yawning  before  they  heard  Harold  come 
in,  and  the  next  moment  he  entered  the  room.  Maureen 
was  so  hidden  in  her  corner  that  he  did  not  at  once  per- 
ceive her.  "  Why,  where  on  earth  has  she  gone  ?  "  he 
asked.  "  Surely  not  to  bed  ?  "  Then  Maureen  jumped 
up  with  a  merry  laugh. 

"  Why,  it  is  only  half-past  nine ;  what  an  idea,  you 
silly  boy!  You  are  going  to  have  your  supper  now, 
and  if  father  will  spare  me  I  should  like  to  sit  and  talk 
to  you  while  you  have  it." 

"  Come  along,  then,"  was  the  answer.  Harold  spoke 
in  rather  a  tired  voice,  but  his  manner  was  affectionate. 
"  Glad  to  be  home  ?  "  was  his  first  question. 

"  Glad?  I  should  think  so!  It  has  been  just  lovely, 
and  mother  has  been  so  dear  and  kind.  Somehow  I 
had  no  idea  that  she  would  miss  me  so  much,  but  Irene 
says  there  is  no  doubt  of  it.  Really,  Harold,  it  is  worth 
while  going  through  a  little  home-sickness  to  have  such 
a  welcome." 

Harold  nodded  and  went  on  with  his  supper.  He 
evidently  needed  it;  he  looked  very  jaded  from  his  long 
day's  work. 

Maureen  put  her  elbows  on  the  table  and  inspected 


262  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

him  critically.  She  had  never  seen  him  look  so  tired. 
He  had  got  ink-stains  under  his  eyes — they  always 
called  them  ink-stains ;  for  the  Brydons  used  odd  ex- 
pressions for  their  little  ailments.  She  fancied,  too, 
that  he  looked  thinner. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  are  all  right,  Harold  ?  "  she  said 
so  abruptly  that  her  brother  laid  down  his  knife  and 
fork  and  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  What  has  the  child  got  in  her  head  now  ?  "  But  his 
manner  was  a  trifle  irritable.  "  All  right  ?  Well,  I  am 
as  tired  as  a  dog,  but  a  good  night's  sleep  will  set  me 
to  rights.  Look  here,  Maureen,  I  sha'n't  be  able  to  talk 
to  you  after  supper.  I  shall  have  to  go  over  some  busi- 
ness with  father,  and  then  I  shall  be  thankful  to  turn 
in." 

"  Oh  yes,  dear,  and  of  course  I  would  not  keep  you. 
We  will  have  a  nice  talk  to-morrow  evening." 

"  All  right.  By  the  bye,  I  heard  from  Chaytor  again 
the  other  day.  You  shall  see  the  letter  if  you  like." 

Maureen's  eyes  sparkled.  "  Oh,  did  you  really  ? 
How  nice  of  him  to  write." 

"  Well,  I  never  expected  it.  But  he  said  he  was 
rather  glad  to  find  a  correspondent  for  a  rainy  day,  and 
that  I  took  so  much  interest  that  he  would  like  to  narrate 
his  adventures.  It  is  an  awfully  clever  letter,  and  worth 
reading.  Oh,  he  sent  you  kind  regards  or  something 
of  the  sort." 

Maureen  looked  pleased.  "  How  kind  of  him  to  re- 
member me,"  she  thought,  quite  gratefully.  Then  aloud : 
"  All  the  George  Chaytors  return  to  Westcombe  Lodge 
to-morrow,  and  of  course  Ruth  with  them." 

"  Did  you  hear  from  her  ?  "  Harold  was  examining 
his  cigarette  case  as  he  spoke. 

"  Yes,  I  had  a  letter  yesterday.  She  seemed  in  much 
better  spirits,  and  said  how  thankful  she  was  to  leave 
Scarborough.  She  wants  us  both  to  go  over  on  Saturday 
afternoon." 

"  Both !    Are  you  sure  of  that  ?  "    And  Harold  struck 


'  There's  No  Place  Like  Home  "      263 

a  match  which  immediately  went  out,  and  he  walked  to 
the  fireplace  and  flung  it  away. 

"  Ruth  said  '  you  and  your  brother ' ;  and  she  cer- 
tainly did  not  mean  Ninian.  You  won't  fail  me,  will 
you,  Harold?  for  I  could  not  face  all  those  Chaytors 
alone." 

"  Oh,  I  daresay  I  shall  be  able  to  get  off  all  right," 
he  returned.  "  But  I  don't  believe  we  shall  enjoy  the 
visit.  I  hate  a  crowd,  and  I  believe  there  is  always  a 
rabble  on  those  Saturdays." 

Harold's  manner  made  Maureen  uneasy.  She  had 
been  so  looking  to  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Ruth  again,  but 
Harold  was  taking  the  gilt  off  the  gingerbread ;  but  she 
remembered  that  he  was  too  tired  to  take  a  cheerful  view. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  we  shall  both  like  Doris,"  she  said, 
brightly.  "  And  I  want  to  fix  a  day  for  Ruth  to  come 
over  here."  But  to  this  Harold  made  no  answer. 

"  I  cannot  keep  my  father  waiting  any  longer,"  he 
said,  a  minute  later.  "  It  is  late,  and  you  ought  to  go 
to  bed,  Maureen."  But  she  lingered  a  moment. 

"  You  have  not  told  me  that  you  are  pleased  to  have 
me  home."  Maureen's  voice  was  a  little  plaintive. 

"  Did  you  ever  know  me  to  make  speeches,  you 
absurd  child  ?  "  But  Harold's  gravity  relaxed,  and  he 
gave  her  a  hearty  kiss.  Then  he  summoned  Brat,  who 
was  sleeping  peacefully  on  the  rug,  and  left  the  room. 
Maureen  followed  to  bid  her  father  and  mother  good- 
night; the  girls  had  already  gone  to  their  rooms. 

Lois  and  Sybil  were  awaiting  her,  and  it  was  some 
time  before  she  could  get  rid  of  them.  "  I  wonder 
what  Aunt  Margaret  would  say  to  such  late  hours  ? " 
she  observed,  inwardly.  But  her  last  waking  thoughts 
were  occupied  with  Harold.  "  Could  a  little  hard  work 
have  made  him  look  so  different?  He  cannot  be  unwell, 
or  mother  would  have  mentioned  it,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  And  no  one  else  seems  to  have  noticed  anything.  It 
must  be  my  fancy."  And  then  Maureen  set  herself 
resolutely  to  go  to  sleep. 


XXIX 

HAROLD  REFUSES  TO  BE  CROSS-EXAMINED 

'Tis  but  brother's  speech  we  need, 

Speech  where  an  accent's  change  gives  each 

The  other's  soul.  BROWNING. 

Be  pitiful,  for  every  man  is  fighting  a  hard  battle. — IAN 
MACLAREN. 

If  your  face  wants  to  smile,  let  it;  if  it  doesn't,  make  it. 
— ANON. 

THE  next  few  days  would  have  been  simply  perfect 
except  for  an  ever-deepening  conviction  on  Maureen's 
part  that  all  was  not  well  with  Harold.  The  weary  look 
had  never  left  his  eyes,  and  he  seemed  always  too  busy 
for  that  special  talk  to  which  she  had  been  looking 
forward. 

A  more  suspicious  nature  would  have  at  once  sur- 
mised that  Harold  was  trying  to  avoid  it.  Certainly 
she  never  once  found  herself  alone  with  him  until  that 
Saturday  afternoon  when  Lois  and  Sybil  had  left  them 
at  the  station  gate,  and  they  were  on  the  platform  waiting 
for  the  Kensington  train. 

Maureen  had  not  ventured  to  ask  her  mother's 
opinion.  One  morning  she  had  said  a  word  or  two  to 
Irene,  but  it  was  quite  evident  from  her  sister's  answer 
that  she  had  noticed  nothing  amiss. 

"  Harold  often  had  these  quiet  moods.  It  was  Entre- 
nous'  way " — here  Irene  smiled  placidly  at  her  little 
joke ;  "  she  did  not  think  him  more  silent  than  usual, 
and  as  he  had  been  rather  hard-worked  the  last  week 
or  two,  it  was  quite  natural  that  he  should  be  tired." 

"  But  he  does  not  seem  in  good  spirits,  Pax," 
returned  Maureen.  "Are  you  sure  he  likes  his  work  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes."  Irene  was  quite  certain  about  that. 
264 


Harold  Refuses  to  be  Cross-Examined  265 

"  Harold  was  working  splendidly,  and  her  father  seemed 
perfectly  satisfied  with  him." 

"  I  heard  father  tell  mother  the  other  day,"  continued 
Irene,  as  she  darned  the  heel  of  >Ninian's  sock,  "  that 
Harold  was  uncommonly  clever.  '  The  fellow  has  a  head 
on  his  shoulders,'  he  went  on,  '  and  he  does  not  mind 
hard  work.  I  don't  feel  as  though  his  expensive  educa- 
tion has  been  thrown  away.  He  will  be  a  better  solicitor 
than  his  father  one  of  these  days.'  " 

"  And  what  did  mother  say  to  that  ?  " 

Then  Irene  gave  a  soft  little  laugh.  " '  You  must 
not  expect  me  to  endorse  that,  my  dear ' ;  and  fether 
looked  so  pleased.  By  the  bye,  Maureen  " — dismissing 
the  subject  abruptly — "  has  any  one  told  you  that  Mr. 
Walton  is  to  dine  with  us  to-morrow  evening?  Mother 
asked  him  after  the  committee  meeting.  She  says  that 
he  and  Harold  are  becoming  such  fast  friends  that  she 
thinks  it  her  duty  to  encourage  his  visits." 

This  was  grand  news,  and  Maureen  was  at  once 
interested.  She  was  rather  eager  to  make  Mr.  Walton's 
acquaintance.  If  he  were  as  nice  as  her  mother  thought, 
he  would  be  a  delightful  acquisition  to  their  small  circle 
of  friends.  The  Brydons  did  not  entertain  much;  their 
large  family  and  very  moderate  means  prevented  any 
lavish  hospitality.  Sometimes  some  girl  friends  came 
in  for  the  afternoon  or  the  evening,  and  occasionally 
Harold  or  Clive  had  a  friend  to  dinner,  but  there  was 
very  little  difference  made  in  the  menu.  Anna  had  no 
very  close  friends,  and  though  she  had  always  a  kindly 
welcome  and  a  cup  of  tea  for  any  chance  acquaintance, 
she  never  put  herself  out  to  do  more. 

Once  in  a  blue  moon,  as  Daniel  phrased  it,  her  hus- 
band had  two  or  three  business  friends  and  their  wives 
to  dinner,  and  on  these  occasions  Anna  was  wont  to 
exert  herself  to  such  purpose  that  these  functions  were 
always  a  success.  Only  Irene  and  Harold  took  their 
places  at  the  dinner-table :  the  rest  of  the  family  were 
only  visible  when  the  ladies  returned  to  the  drawing- 


266  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

room.  When  the  guests  had  left,  Daniel  always  made 
his  wife  one  or  two  pretty  speeches  in  praise  of  the  menu 
and  her  excellent  management,  and  Anna's  grave  face 
always  brightened  at  once. 

"  They  were  your  friends,  Dan,  and  of  course  I 
wanted  to  please  them  and  you.  Irene,  dear,  I  must  tell 
you  that  Mrs.  Howard  Blake  did  so  admire  the  table 
decorations;  she  asked  at  once  which  of  my  daughters 
had  superintended  it." 

"  Well,  mother,  you  know  Lois  helped  me,  so  I  must 
not  take  all  the  praise."  And  then  Lois  received  her 
little  compliment. 

When  the  Rev.  Alban  Walton  made  his  appearance 
the  next  evening,  Maureen  inspected  him  rather  criti- 
cally, but  she  was  quite  favourably  impressed.  He  was 
a  slim,  dark  young  man,  with  rather  a  good  face,  though 
he  was  by  no  means  handsome  and  he  had  a  very 
pleasant  voice  and  manner,  and  seemed  quite  at  home 
in  the  family  circle.  He  was  very  friendly  in  his  manner 
to  Maureen,  but  she  could  not  help  noticing  that  he 
took  more  notice  of  Irene  than  of  any  one.  It  was 
evident,  too,  that  he  and  Harold  were  the  best  of  friends. 
That  evening,  Harold  certainly  seemed  more  cheerful 
and  like  himself,  and  Maureen  would  have  been  entirely 
satisfied  about  him  if  she  had  not  once  seen  the  haggard 
look  cloud  his  face.  Perhaps  he  thought  himself  unper- 
ceived,  or  was  off  his  guard  for  the  moment,  but  the 
sadness  in  his  eyes  had  been  clearly  visible  to  her. 

"  Something  is  making  him  unhappy,"  thought  the 
faithful  little  sister,  "  but  he  does  not  want  any  one  to 
know  he  is  making  efforts  from  morning  to  night.  But 
he  cannot  deceive  me,  poor  boy !  Oh,  I  must  speak  to 
him.  I  must,  I  must."  And  then  the  opportunity  came, 
and  Maureen,  with  her  usual  energy,  seized  it.  The 
train  would  not  be  due  for  another  ten  minutes,  and 
they  were  alone,  pacing  up  and  down  a  quiet  end  of 
the  platform. 


Harold  Refuses  to  be  Cross-Examined  267 

\ 

"  Harold,  dear,"  she  began,  a  little  breathlessly,  "  I 
do  so  want  to  ask  you  something." 

"  Ask  away ;  is  it  a  riddle  ?  "  Harold  was  in  a  brown 
study;  he  seemed  only  half  awake. 

"  No,  no,  I  am  quite  serious  " — rather  impatiently. 
"  You  must  not  mind  my  speaking,  dear,  but  I  cannot 
help  seeing  that  something  is  troubling  you  very  much." 
Here  Harold  started  visibly;  he  was  wide  awake  now. 
"  No  one  else  seems  to  notice  it,"  went  on  Maureen, 
"  but  I  know  you  so  well.  You  are  not  a  bit  like  yourself 
— you  are  so  tired  and  depressed — and  it  makes  me 
miserable."  But  here  Harold  looked  so  displeased  that 
her  courage  collapsed,  and  instead  of  going  on  with  her 
sentence  she  asked  a  little  lamely,  "  Do  you  dislike  your 
work ;  is  that  the  trouble  ?  " 

Harold  drew  himself  up  rather  stiffly.  He  evidently 
resented  the  question  and  was  in  no  mood  for  cross- 
examination.  Maureen  had  not  chosen  her  time  well. 
Harold  was  occupied  with  other  thoughts,  but  he  tried 
hard  to  control  his  irritability. 

"  I  don't  dislike  my  work  in  the  least,  thank  you. 
On  the  contrary,  I  like  it  much  better  than  I  ever  thought 
I  should,  and  I  believe  my  father  is  quite  satisfied." 

"  Oh  yes,  dear !  Irene  says  that  he  was  only  telling 

mother  the  other  day  how  clever  you  were,  and  that " 

But  here  Entre-nous  made  a  lordly  little  gesture  for 
silence :  he  never  would  listen  to  what  he  called  "  back- 
stair  compliments." 

"  Oh,  it  is  easy  to  work  with  the  governor,"  was  all 
he  said. 

"  Then  what  is  it  ?  "  asked  Maureen,  in  a  bewildered 
tone.  The  poor  child  was  too  much  in  earnest,  too  dis- 
turbed in  her  mind,  to  see  that  she  was  only  exasperating 
Harold. 

"  Now  look  here,  Maureen,"  he  said,  in  an  annoyed 
voice,  "  I  daresay  you  mean  well,  but  you  are  not  show- 
ing your  usual  good  sense  by  asking  these  absurd 
questions.  Does  it  not  strike  you  that  a  man  " — here 


268  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Entre-nous  assumed  a  very  dignified  air — "  that  a  man 
of  my  age  " — he  was  not  five-and-twenty — "  may  have 
his  own  troubles  and  business  worries  which  he  may  not 
care  to  tell  his  sister  ?  I  am  not  owning  up  to  any  special 
trouble,  please  remember  that " ;  and  Harold's  eyes 
gleamed  rather  ominously  through  his  pince-nez. 

"  But  I  thought  we  were  such  chums,"  faltered 
Maureen,  "  and  that  I  might  ask  you."  But  again  he 
silenced  her. 

"  Chums  should  not  take  liberties,  then,"  was  on  the 
tip  of  his  tongue,  but  he  kept  the  words  back.  He  was 
far  too  fond  of  Maureen  to  hurt  her  if  he  could  help  it, 
but  he  must  really  put  a  stop  to  these  intolerable 
questions. 

"  You  may  ask,  but  I  may  refuse  to  answer,"  was  his 
amended  form  of  speech.  "  A  fellow  cannot  be  always 
chattering  confidences  like  a  girl.  I  am  not  that  sort 
at  all,  and  I  thought  you  knew  me  better  than  that." 

"  I  know  well  enough  not  to  make  such  a  mistake 
again,"  returned  Maureen,  in  a  hurt  voice.  She,  too, 
was  trying  to  be  dignified  and  failed,  poor  little  soul ! 

"  Oh  shut  up,  you  little  goose !  "  returned  Harold, 
but  he  spoke  in  his  old  tolerant  way.  "  Here  we  are, 
trying  to  get  up  a  quarrel,  and  hitting  out  at  each  other 
just  because  you  choose  to  ask  awkward  questions,  and 
cut  up  rough  when  a  fellow  won't  answer  them.  Why 
on  earth  did  you  call  me  Entre-nous  if  I  were  the  sort 
of  chap  who  wore  my  feelings  outside,  instead  of 
decently  covering  them?  Now  here  comes  the  train, 
and  we  won't  say  another  word  about  it. "  Harold 
evidently  thought  he  was  making  a  handsome  apology, 
but  Maureen's  heart  was  too  full  to  respond. 

The  compartment  was  crowded,  and  Maureen  with 
difficulty  found  a  seat.  Harold,  who  was  not  equally 
fortunate,  had  to  content  himself  by  holding  on  to  a 
strap  at  the  other  end.  Maureen  looked  out  vacantly 
and  tried  to  arrange  her  troubled  thoughts. 

"  He  did  not  mean  to  be  unkind,"  she  said  to  herself. 


Harold  Refuses  to  be  Cross-Examined  269 

"  Harold  is  never  unkind.  I  daresay  I  was  gauche  and 
abrupt,  but  he  need  not  have  have  said  that."  For  the 
speech  that  rankled  in  Maureen's  mind  were  those  words 
spoken  in  a  slightly  sarcastic  tone,  "  You  may  ask,  but 
I  may  refuse  to  answer."  "  He  might  have  known  that 
I  did  not  ask  them  from  inquisitiveness  or  a  wish  to  in- 
terfere," she  went  on,  and  then  she  finished  with  the 
sisterly  refrain,  "  But  he  did  not  mean  to  be  unkind." 

At  that  moment  something  made  her  glance  in 
Harold's  direction,  and  he  nodded  to  her  with  a  smile. 
Of  course  it  was  impossible  not  to  smile  back.  One 
may  feel  dignified,  but  it  is  strange  how  soon  affection 
gets  the  upper  hand.  Entre-nous  was  all  right,  and 
she  must  be  all  right  too. 

As  she  alighted,  Harold  linked  his  arm  through  hers 
in  a  friendly  manner  and  piloted  her  through  the  crowd, 
and  he  was  quite  pleasant  and  talkative  as  they  walked 
on.  He  asked  Maureen  which  day  she  thought  Clive 
would  come,  and  what  they  could  arrange  for  his 
entertainment. 

"  Look  here,  Maureen,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "  I  don't 
see  why  you  and  I  and  Clive  should  not  have  a  little 
spree  together.  Thanks  to  Aunt  Peg  I  spent  very  little 
during  my  holiday,  and  I  am  rather  flush  of  money  just 
now.  You  and  Clive  might  meet  me  in  town,  and  we 
could  have  dinner  at  the  Florence,  and  go  afterwards  to 
David  Garrick — it  is  on  now,  and  Clive  has  always  missed 
it." 

"David  Garrick!  Oh,  Harold,  the  very  play  I  have 
so  longed  to  see  " ;  and  every  cloud  vanished  from  Mau- 
reen's face.  "  How  delightful !  Are  you  sure  you  can 
afford  it  ?  "  But  Harold  seemed  perfectly  sure  on  this 
point. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do,"  he  went  on.  "  I 
shall  write  to  old  Clive  and  inform  him  that  I  have 
taken  tickets  for  a  certain  night,  and  then  he  will  turn 
up  all  right,  you  bet !  "  Harold  felt  he  was  doing  the 
thing  quite  handsomely,  but  Maureen's  pleasure  fully 


270  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

repaid  him.     Then  as  they  came  in  sight  of  Westcombe 
Lodge  he  became  a  little  grave. 

"  What  a  big,  handsome  house !  "  observed  Maureen, 
rather  impressed  by  the  size  of  the  mansion.  Then  a 
motor  whirled  up  to  the  door,  and  two  very  smartly- 
dressed  ladies  went  up  the  steps. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  muttered  Harold,  in  a  discontented 
voice ;  "  there  will  be  a  regular  rabble,  but  we  had  bet- 
ter follow  them."  Then  he  gave  their  names  to  the 
grey-haired  butler,  and  a  footman  in  livery  conducted 
them  through  the  handsome  entrance  hall,  and  up  a 
flight  of  stairs  with  rather  a  pretty  conservatory  built 
out  on  the  landing. 

Ruth  had  told  Maureen  that  the  two  drawing-rooms 
occupied  the  entire  first  floor.  The  smaller  one,  through 
which  they  passed  first,  was  called  the  music-room,  and 
was  quite  empty;  but  a  perfect  Babel  of  voices  came 
from  the  inner  drawing-room,  though  the  room  was  so 
large  that  the  eighteen  or  twenty  people  present  only 
occupied  the  corner  by  the  tea-table,  where  Olivia  and 
Gwendoline  were  busy.  Ruth  and  two  other  girls,  evi- 
dently Doris  and  Jessie,  were  waiting  on  their  guests, 
with  a  page-boy  to  assist  them.  Ruth  put  down  her 
basket  of  cakes  and  came  quickly  towards  them ;  the  wild 
rose  flush  on  her  cheeks  had  deepened  considerably. 

"  I  was  looking  out  for  you,"  she  whispered  to 
Maureen  as  she  kissed  her,  and  then  she  glanced  at 
Harold  rather  shyly.  "  I  will  take  you  to  Aunt  Sophy ; 
she  is  talking  to  old  Lady  Falconer  in  that  corner, 
"Aunt  Sophy,  dear,  my  friends  have  come;  this  is 
Maureen  and  her  brother,  Mr.  Harold  Brydon."  Then 
a  stout  lady  in  a  handsome  plum-coloured  brocade,  with 
a  plain,  good-humoured  face  and  rather  prominent  teeth, 
shook  hands  with  them  cordially. 

"  Ruth  has  tailked  of  you  so  much  that  we  seem  to 
know  you  already,"  she  said  pleasantly.  "  Now,  dearest, 
you  must  introduce  your  friends  to  your  cousins,  and 
giye  them  some  tea."  And  then  after  a  few  more 


Harold  Refuses  to  be  Cross -Examined  271 

introductions  Maureen  found  herself  placed  under 
Olivia's  wing,  with  pretty  dark-eyed  Doris  waiting  on 
her-  Maureen  glanced  across  the  room  at  Harold.  He 
had  declined  to  sit  down  unless  Ruth  were  seated  also, 
and  she  had  just  yielded  gracefully,  and  had  delegated 
her  duties  to  Jessie. 

The  Chaytors  did  this  sort  of  thing  very  well;  they 
had  a  pleasant  knack  of  making  their  friends  comfort- 
able. The  multitude  of  little  tables  in  the  immense 
room  rather  reminded  Maureen  of  an  A  B  C  shop. 
There  were  tiny  tables  or  stands  even  for  the  gentle- 
men— no  one  was  neglected  or  left  out  in  the  cold. 
The  hot  cakes  came  up  in  relays ;  there  was  always 
a  fresh  brew  of  tea  for  late-comers.  If  the  Chaytor 
girls  talked  and  laughed  a  little  too  loudly,  they  waited 
on  their  guests  in  the  nicest  way.  When  Mr.  Le 
Marchant  made  his  appearance  Olivia  beckoned  to  him 
at  once.  "  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  Ruth's  friends, 
Clement,"  she  said  ;  "  this  is  Miss  Brydon,  and  her  brother 
is  talking  to  Ruth.  You  might  as  well  go  over  and 
introduce  yourself  " ;  which  was  good-natured  and  self- 
sacrificing  on  Olivia's  part- 
Maureen  wished  that  Ruth  would  come  and  talk  to 
her,  but  the  two  gentlemen  evidently  intended  to 
monopolise  her;  for  Mr.  Le  Marchant  stood  there  for 
some  time.  Harold  was  certainly  having  his  innings. 
Olivia  looked  across  at  them,  but  she  would  not  desert 
her  post.  New  arrivals  were  streaming  in,  and  all  the 
girls  were  busy.  Then  Mr.  Le  Marchant  remembered 
his  fiancee,  and  Ruth  said  something  to  Harold,  and  they 
both  joined  Maureen. 

"  I  could  not  come  to  you  before,"  observed  Ruth, 
"  Clement  Le  Marchant  and  your  brother  were  having 
such  an  interesting  discussion ;  but  I  saw  Olivia  and  Doris 
were  taking  care  of  you." 

"  Yes,  but  I  wanted  you  all  the  same,"  returned 
Maureen,  smiling ;  "  for  I  feel  that  I  have  not  seen  you 
for  ages-" 


272  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  but  one  cannot  get  nice  talks  on 
Saturdays."  Ruth  spoke  quite  guilelessly,  though  it  had 
certainly  seemed  to  Maureen  that  she  and  Harold  had 
been  having  rather  a  good  time. 

"  Then  we  will  have  our  talk  at  the  Homestead," 
she  returned,  promptly.  "  >Now  I  want  you  to  fix  a  day 
next  week — let  me  see,  Wednesday;  will  that  suit  you, 
Ruth?  You  must  come  to  luncheon,  and  spend  the 
whole  afternoon;  and  Harold  and  I  want  you  to  stay 
to  dinner." 

A  sudden  flush  crossed  Harold's  face. 

"  I  shall  have  no  chance  of  seeing  you  unless  you 
do  stay,"  he  said,  rather  pointedly.  Then  Ruth  hesitated 
and  looked  down. 

"  I  suppose  Aunt  Sophy  would  not  mind  for  once," 
she  returned-  "  I  don't  think  the  girls  are  going  out 
that  evening,  and  she  could  easily  send  for  me." 

"  They  must  not  send  for  you  too  early,  for  I  want 
father  to  hear  you  sing.  He  and  mother  are  so  fond 
of  music." 

Maureen  spoke  with  great  determination.  Harold 
said  nothing  in  words. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  that  your  mother  will  not  find 
me  in  the  way.  "  But  Maureen  treated  this  remark  with 
great  disdain. 

"  Mother  will  be  delighted,  and  the  girls,  Lois  and 
Sybil,  are  dying  to  make  your  acquaintance."  Then 
Ruth  smiled  and  yielded. 

"  I  will  talk  to  Aunt  Sophy,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
queenly  air  which  rather  amused  Maureen-  Ruth 
evidently  held  her  own  at  Westcombe  Lodge.  Her 
cousins  not  only  petted,  but  they  seemed  to  defer  to 
her. 

"  She  is  different  somehow  here  to  what  she  is  at 
Marsh  Hall,"  thought  Maureen.  "  She  asserts  herself 
more,  and  they  all  give  way  to  her." 

Ruth  did  not  seem  inclined  to  part  with  her  friends. 
She  accompanied  them  to  the  head  of  the  staircase. 


Harold  Refuses  to  be  Cross-Examined  273 

"  It  has  been  so  nice  seeing  you,"  she  said  affection- 
ately, as  Maureen  kissed  her.  "  And  it  was  good  of 
you  to  bring  her,"  she  added  shyly,  as  she  shook  hands 
with  Harold. 

"  Oh,  Harold,  I  have  enjoyed  it  ever  so  much  better 
than  I  expected,"  exclaimed  Maureen,  as  they  hurried 
to  the  station.  "  The  Chaytor  girls  are  really  very  nice, 
if  only  they  did  not  talk  and  laugh  quite  so  loudly. 
Doris  has  the  nicest  voice,  and  I  like  her  much  the 
best,  and  she  does  seem  so  devoted  to  Ruth.  '  She  is 
a  perfect  darling,'  she  said  to  me  in  such  an  enthusiastic 
way." 

Harold  listened  in  an  interested  manner,  but  he 
volunteered  no  remarks,  except  that  he  was  afraid  they 
had  stayed  rather  long. 

"  I  am  sure  we  shall  not  turn  up  at  the  Homestead 
until  they  are  half  through  dinner,"  he  observed.  But 
Maureen  refused  to  be  daunted  by  this  prospect.  She 
was  too  pleased  and  excited  by  her  visit  to  notice  that 
Harold's  gravity  and  reticence  had  returned. 

"  He  certainly  did  enjoy  himself,"  she  thought.  "  And 
I  never  saw  him  look  so  nice  and  animated  as  he  did 
when  he  and  Ruth  and  Mr.  Le  Marchant  were  talking. 
I  really  did  feel  rather  proud  of  my  dear  boy  then." 
And  Maureen  smiled  happily.  "  Where  ignorance  is 
bliss,  'tis  folly  to  be  wise,"  says  the  poet,  and  certainly 
if  Maureen  could  have  read  her  brother's  thoughts 
at  that  moment  she  would  hardly  have  been  so  content. 


XXX 

RED  AND  GOLD  CHRYSANTHEMUMS 

My  soul,  sit  thou  a  patient  looker-on, 

Judge  not  the  play  before  the  play  is  done; 

The  plot  has  many  changes ;   every  day 

Speaks  a  new  scene;  the  last  act  crowns  the  play. 

EPIGRAM  OF  FRANCIS  QUARLES. 

Music  hath  charms — sometimes. 

CONGREVE  CAMPBELL. 

MAUREEN  busied  herself  with  all  sorts  of  preparations 
for  Ruth's  visit.  The  Homestead  was  to  look  its  very 
best  that  day.  She  had  just  made  up  her  mind  to  invest 
in  some  flowers  for  the  luncheon  table  and  the  drawing- 
room  vases,  when  Harold  called  to  her  as  he  was  brushing 
his  hat  in  the  hall. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  hastily,  "  tell  Irene  I  will 
bring  down  some  flowers  from  town  this  evening.  The 
last  she  got  was  a  wretched  lot.  I  know  a  place  where 
they  are  good  and  fresh."  And  Maureen  carried  this 
message  very  readily  to  the  young  housekeeper.  But 
Irene's  frugal  soul  was  sorely  troubled  when  Harold, 
with  an  air  of  modest  triumph,  produced  his  floral 
offerings. 

"  Oh,  Harold,  how  could  you  be  so  extravagant !  " 
were  her  first  words,  and  even  Maureen's  eyes  widened 
with  surprise  at  the  sheaves  of  crimson  and  golden- 
brown  chrysanthemums  that  lay  heaped  on  the  dining- 
room  table.  "  They  are  just  splendid,  but  you  must  have 
spent  so  much  money."  But  Harold  disclaimed  this  most 
emphatically. 

"  They  were  only  just  cut,  and  they  will  last  fresh 
for  a  week,"  he  said.  "  You  girls  had  better  put  them 
in  water  as  soon  as  possible." 

274 


Red  and  Gold  Chrysanthemums       275 

"Whatever  will  mother  say?"  observed  Irene,  when 
Harold  had  left  them.  "  She  does  so  hate  the  boys  to 
be  extravagant.  She  was  quite  vexed  with  Clive  when 
he  bought  that  palm  for  the  drawing-room ;  and  it  is 
such  a  beauty  too,  and  makes  that  corner  by  the  window 
so  pretty.  And  now  Harold  has  bought  that  cart-load 
of  flowers." 

"  We  could  certainly  have  done  with  half,"  returned 
Maureen,  truthfully.  "  But  we  won't  tell  him  so,  Pax ; 
the  dear  fellow  would  be  so  hurt.  We  will  put  them 
in  water  for  to-night,  and  hide  them  in  the  pantry; 
and  when  mother  has  gone  across  to  the  school  to- 
morrow morning  we  will  all  set  to  work.  You  and  Lois 
shall  do  the  dinner-table,  and  Sybil  and  I  will  fill  the 
drawing-room  vases.  We  shall  have  plenty  of  time 
before  Ruth  comes."  And  Irene,  with  a  little  sigh, 
acquiesced  in  this  arrangement,  but  she  shook  her  head 
as  she  helped  to  gather  up  the  flowers. 

"  He  must  have  spent  eight  or  nine  shillings,  or  even 
more,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  But  it  is  no  use  scolding 
him  now  " ;  for  Irene  was  always  very  tactful  with  her 
brothers,  and  never  could  see  the  wisdom  of  crying  over 
spilt  milk. 

Everything  was  in  order  before  Ruth's  arrival,  and 
Maureen  was  delighted  to  hear  Irene  say,  in  an 
approving  voice,  that  she  had  never  seen  the  drawing- 
room  look  so  nice. 

"  It  is  surprising  what  a  difference  flowers  make  in 
a  room,"  she  observed.  But  she  and  Maureen  exchanged 
an  amused  look  when  Ruth  appeared  with  a  basket  of 
hothouse  flowers. 

"  I  brought  these  for  your  mother,  Maureen,"  she 
said,  in  her  pretty  way.  "You  told  me  once  that  she 
was  so  fond  of  flowers." 

"  Oh,  how  nice  of  you,  dear !  "  with  a  grateful  kiss. 
"  Mother  has  just  come  in  from  the  school ;  she  always 
takes  a  class  on  Monday.  We  shall  find  her  in  the 
drawing-room." 


276  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Mrs.  Brydon  received  her  visitor  very  kindly,  but  she 
was  rather  taken  aback  by  the  beautiful  basket  of  hothouse 
flowers  which  Ruth  proffered  with  shy  grace. 

"Will  you  please  accept  them?"  she  said,  and  there 
was  a  soft,  appealing  look  in  the  lovely  eyes  that  went 
straight  to  Anna's  motherly  heart. 

"  I  never  saw  mother  so  taken  with  any  girl,"  Irene 
told  Maureen  that  evening.  "  '  What  a  pretty  creature ! ' 
were  her  first  words  when  you  had  taken  Ruth  upstairs. 
And  I  could  see  how  pleased  she  was  with  the  flower- 
basket.  Mother  has  so  few  presents,  and  Miss  Chaytor's 
thoughtfulness  quite  touched  her." 

"  Oh,  dont'  be  so  formal,  Pax-  Why  don't  you  call 
her  Ruth?" 

"  Well,  Ruth  then,"  returned  Irene,  mildly.  "  Mother 
said  she  was  a  perfect  little  gentlewoman,  and  that  her 
manner  was  charming.  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  Ruth 
look  to  more  advantage;  that  dark  red  velveteen 
exactly  suits  her  dark  hair.  Don't  you  admire  her 
little  sleek  head,  Maureen?  It  is  like  a  glossy  bird's. 
And  those  thick  coils  are  so  becoming."  And  for  once 
Irene  seemed  quite  enthusiastic. 

Ruth,  on  her  side,  was  equally  complimentary. 

"  Oh,  I  do  so  admire  your  mother!  "  she  said,  as  she 
and  Maureen  went  upstairs  arm-in-arm.  "  What  a 
beautiful  face  she  has ;  and  her  eyes  are  so  kind,  though 
they  are  tired-looking  too." 

"  Oh,  mother  is  always  tired.  But  she  will  do  things, 
and  not  even  father  can  stop  her." 

"  I  was  a  little  afraid  to  give  her  my  flowers  at  first," 
continued  Ruth,  smiling.  "  She  looked  so  dignified, 

and Oh,  I  hardly  know  the  right  word,  but  I  felt 

so  dreadfully  shy  until  she  smiled,  and  then  I  got  on 
all  right." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  returned  Maureen,  encouragingly.  "  And 
I  feel  sure  from  mother's  manner  that  she  likes  you. 
Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  girls,  Ruth?  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  delighted  with  them  all.    Lois  is  a  sweet 


Red  and  Gold  Chrysanthemums       277 

creature,  and  Sybil  looks  so  bright  and  merry,  and  Ivy 
is  such  a  handsome  child — she  has  your  mother's  eyes. 
Oh,  Maureen,  I  do  feel  you  are  to  be  envied — all  those 
sisters  and  brothers,  and  your  dear  mother  and  father, 
and  I  have  only  Romney."  And  Ruth  sighed,  but  she 
soon  cheered  up  again. 

"  What  a  dear  little  back-water  of  a  place ! "  she 
continued,  as  she  looked  out  of  the  bedroom  window; 
"  that  little  green  with  the  trees,  and  the  seats  under 
them,  and  those  nice  cosy-looking  houses  opposite." 

"  Rather  different  to  Marsh  Hall  and  Westcombe 
Lodge,  eh,  Ruth?" 

"  Comparisons  are  odious,"  returned  Ruth,  patting 
the  glossy  coils  that  were  Irene's  admiration.  "  I  think 
the  Homestead  is  just  delightful.  I  like  that  homely, 
liveable  sort  of  drawing-room,  just  big  enough,  but  not 
too  big.  Ours  is  too  large  for  comfort.  We  shut 
ourselves  in  with  screens  and  pretend  to  be  cosy;  but 
Doris  and  I  prefer  the  morning-room  for  comfort.  Then 
you  have  such  a  nice  garden,  Maureen.  It  is  far  better 
than  ours  at  Marsh  Hall,  though,  I  allow,  it  is  not  quite 
as  delightful  as  Miss  Brydon's." 

All  this  was  music  in  Maureen's  ears.  Ruth  was 
evidently  prepossessed  with  the  Homestead  and  all 
pertaining  to  it,  and  her  friendliness  and  naivete  won 
all  their  hearts.  Irene  looked  on  approvingly  when 
Ruth  produced  a  fairy-like  piece  of  embroidery,  with  a 
tiny  gold  thimble  and  pair  of  scissors.  "  I  thought  I 
ought  not  to  be  idle  for  a  whole  day,"  she  said,  smilingly. 
And  then  Lois  and  Sybil  fetched  theirs,  and  when  Mrs. 
Brydon  returned  to  the  drawing-room  she  found  quite 
a  huddle  of  girlish  heads  at  one  window. 

Ruth  had  been  presented  at  Court  during  the  last 
season,  and  she  was  narrating  her  experiences,  while 
Lois  and  Sybil  listened  with  breathless  attention. 

"  Go  on,  my  dear ;  do  not  let  me  interrupt  you,"  Anna 
had  said  kindly;  and  Ruth  had  at  once  proceeded  with 
her  story. 


278  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

After  luncheon  Maureen  carried  off  her  visitor  for 
a  walk  on  the  common.  "  I  must  have  you  all  to 
myself,"  she  explained,  "  and  this  is  the  only  way.  You 
shall  not  be  tired,  Ruth;  it  is  not  really  cold,  and  there 
are  sheltered  seats  where  we  can  sit  clown  and  rest " ; 
and  Ruth  acquiesced  very  willingly.  She  was  delighted 
with  the  common.  She  thought  Romney  would  have 
been  pleased  with  it;  the  great  expanse,  covered  with 
bracken  and  gorse  and  whin,  the  wide  skyline  by  the 
wind-mill,  the  golf-links  dotted  here  and  there  with  red 
coats,  the  fresh  breezy  air,  with  the  softness  of  October 
in  it,  would  all  have  been  to  his  taste.  The  trees  were 
thinning  fast,  but  there  were  still  plenty  of  yellow  and 
brown  leaves  pattering  with  pleasant  rustling  to  the 
ground.  By  and  by  they  turned  into  a  little  glade  or 
dingle,  planted  with  young  larches,  and  here  they  sat 
down  to  rest.  It  was  astonishing  how  much  they  had  to 
talk  about.  Ruth  was  anxious  to  know  if  Maureen  and 
her  brother  had  been  pleased  with  their  visit  to  West- 
combe  Lodge,  and  how  they  liked  Aunt  Sophy  and  the 
cousins. 

"  Aunt  Sophy  was  very  much  struck  with  your 
brother,"  observed  Ruth,  shyly.  "  She  said  he  was  so 
very  good-looking,  and  Olivia  and  Doris  seemed  to  like 
him  too."  And  of  course  Maureen  had  plenty  to  say  in 
answer  to  this. 

"  But  we  must  be  going  back  now,"  she  said,  regret- 
fully ;  "  for  mother  never  likes  us  to  be  out  in  the  dark, 
and  of  course  there  are  tramps  about  sometimes."  And 
this  hint  was  quite  sufficient  for  Ruth,  who  was  certainly 
not  remarkable  for  her  courage,  and  she  walked  so  fast 
that  Maureen  could  hardly  keep  up  with  her,  and  had  to 
beg  her  to  slacken  her  pace. 

The  bright  fire  and  tea-table  looked  very  inviting,  and 
the  Tweenies,  who  had  been  watching  eagerly  for  their 
return,  now  seemed  determined  to  have  their  innings,  for 
they  placed  themselves  on  either  side  of  Ruth,  while  Ivy 


Red  and  Gold  Chrysanthemums        279 

waited  upon  her.  When  their  mother  wanted  the  lamps 
to  be  lighted  there  was  a  general  outcry. 

"  Oh,  mother,  dear,  do  let  us  enjoy  this  lovely  fire- 
light a  little  longer  " — this  from  Maureen.  "  Sybil  has 
made  such  a  blaze  that  I  am  sure  you  can  go  on  with 
your  knitting."  Then  the  knitting-bag  was  produced, 
and  for  once  Irene  consented  to  be  idle. 

And  so  it  was  that  a  very  happy  fireside  circle  met 
Harold's  eyes  as  he  opened  the  door.  Perhaps  his  eyes 
were  a  little  dazed  by  the  half-light,  for  he  stumbled  over 
a  stool  on  his  way  to  his  mother.  For  the  moment  Ruth 
was  hidden  from  his  view ;  as  he  walked  towards  her  Lois 
slipped  out  of  her  chair. 

"  Come  and  warm  yourself,  Harry,"  she  said,  good- 
humouredly — the  Tweenies  often  called  him  Harry — 
and  she  almost  pushed  him  into  the  seat.  But  no  one 
would  have  thought  Harold  needed  any  heat,  his  face 
was  so  flushed  and  his  eyes  so  bright.  Ruth  gave  him 
a  quick  little  look,  and  then  drew  back  into  her  corner 
to  shield  her  glowing  face  from  the  flame. 

Harold  evidently  felt  he  must  explain  his  unusually 
early  arrival.  His  father  wras  detained,  and  there  was 
nothing  doing,  so  he  thought  he  might  as  well  take  an 
earlier  train.  Here  he  looked  hard  at  some  dark-red 
chrysanthemums  that  Ruth  wore ;  he  would  take  his  oath 
they  were  some  of  his.  He  had  walked  fast  from  the 
station,  and  now,  how  had  they  all  been  amusing 
themselves  ? 

Evidently  Ruth  felt  the  question  was  addressed  to 
her,  for  she  answered  without  waiting  a  moment.  She 
and  Maureen  had  had  such  a  lovely  walk  all  across  the 
common  and  the  golf-links,  and  the  bit  by  the  wind-mill 
reminded  her  of  Branksmere,  that  part  before  one  comes 
in  sight  of  Marsh  Hall. 

Yes,  Harold  knew  the  part  she  meant;  it  was  where 
he  and  Maureen  had  stopped  to  listen  to  the  larks. 
Maureen  had  taken  her  a  long  way,  and  he  feared  she 


280  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

must   be   tired.     Another    side-glance   accompanied   his 
speech. 

Oh  no,  Ruth  was  not  tired,  not  in  the  least  tired; 
it  had  been  so  delightful.  They  had  sat  down  in  a  sort 
of  glade  for  quite  a  long  time,  and  so  on.  And  then  the 
others  chimed  in,  and  the  hubbub  of  girlish  voices  reached 
Daniel  Brydon's  ears  as  he  let  himself  in  with  the  latch- 
key, but  only  Anna  recognised  the  sound. 

"  There  is  your  father,  girls,"  she  said,  as  her  stately 
form  passed  the  group.  "  I  expect  he  will  go  upstairs 
first,  but  don't  forget  the  time,  young  people."  And 
then  after  a  little  more  talk  they  dispersed. 

Irene  stopped  at  Maureen's  door  a  moment.  "  Oh, 
I  quite  forgot  to  tell  you  that  mother  has  asked  Mr. 
Walton  to  come  in  this  evening  for  coffee  and  music. 
I  hope  you  don't  mind,  dear;  mother  seemed  to  think 
it  would  be  pleasant  for  him."  Irene's  manner  was  so 
apologetic  that  the  brief  cloud  on  Maureen's  face  cleared 
a  little. 

"  Oh,  it  can't  be  helped.  Of  course  we  wanted  Ruth 
to  ourselves,  but  I  daresay  Mr.  Walton  will  not  be  in  the 
way,  and  I  don't  think  Harold  will  mind."  Then  Irene 
withdrew,  feeling  that  for  once  her  mother  had  made  a 
mistake.  "  Though  all  the  same  it  was  very  kind  of 
mother  to  remember  how  fond  he  is  of  music,"  she  said 
to  herself. 

"  Is  Mr.  Walton  the  new  curate  ?  "  asked  Ruth,  who 
had  overheard  this.  "  Don't  you  like  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  very  nice ;  but  I  am  not  sure  that 
either  Harold  or  I  want  him  this  evening."  Then  for 
some  occult  reason  known  only  to  herself,  Ruth  blushed 
violently- 

Maureen  felt  rather  ashamed  of  her  selfishness  when 
she  saw  the  young  clergyman's  evident  pleasure,  and  she 
was  obliged  to  confess  to  herself  that,  far  from  being 
in  the  way,  Mr.  Walton  rather  added  to  the  general  enter- 
tainment. He  seemed  to  enjoy  Ruth's  singing,  but  he 


Red  and  Gold  Chrysanthemums       281 

certainly  gave  most  of  his  attention  to  Irene,  who  looked 
unusually  sweet  that  evening,  Maureen  thought. 

"  After  all,  I  am  glad  mother  thought  of  Mr. 
Walton,"  she  said,  as  she  bade  her  sister  good-night. 
"  Ruth  liked  him  so  much,  and  she  said  he  had  such  a 
nice  voice." 

"  Yes,  and  he  liked  Ruth's  singing,"  returned  Irene 
pleasantly ;  "  but  I  was  a  little  surprised  that  he  did  not 
seem  to  admire  her  as  much  as  we  all  do." 

"  Not  admire  her ! "  in  an  incredulous  voice. 

"  Oh,  he  said  she  was  a  very  nice-looking  girl,  and 
had  charming  manners.  I  hope  it  was  not  wrong  of 
me  to  ask  him,  Maureen;  but  we  were  talking  about 
her  singing,  and  it  just  came  out." 

Maureen  nodded,  as  though  she  understood,  but  she 
was  plainly  dissatisfied. 

"  He  could  not  have  said  much  less  of  any  one — a 
nice-looking  girl — when  every  one  thinks  her  such  a 
beauty." 

"  Oh,  he  admired  her — I  am  sure  he  admired  her." 
But  Irene  hesitated  as  though  she  were  loath  to  repeat 
the  young  clergyman's  words.  "  He  said  most  people 
would  consider  her  very  pretty,  but  that  he  preferred  a 
different  type." 

Then  there  was  a  sudden  gleam  of  white  teeth,  and 
Maureen's  eyes  sparkled  mischievously. 

"  Mr.  Walton  is  so  dark  himself  that  I  daresay  he 
prefers  fair  people,"  she  said,  very  demurely.  But  Irene 
made  no  answer;  she  was  brushing  her  hair,  and  the 
light-brown  masses  hung  over  her  face  like  a  veil. 

"  Oh  ho,  my  fine  gentleman,"  thought  Maureen,  "  so 
the  wind  sits  in  that  quarter !  "  And  then  she  ran  off 
to  intercept  Harold  on  his  way  upstairs,  as  she  had  not 
bidden  him  good-night. 

Harold  put  down  his  shaded  candlestick.  "  Were 
you  waiting  for  me  ?  "  he  asked,  in  some  surprise. 

"  Yes ;  I  had  not  said  good-night,  and  I  was  wonder- 
ing what  was  keeping  you  so  long.  Hasn't  it  been  a 


282  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

delightful  evening?  Ruth  says  she  does  not  know  when 
she  has  spent  a  happier  day." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that ;  but  I  thought  she  looked  a 
little  pale.  She  had  had  a  long  walk,  and  you  all  made 
her  sing  so  much." 

"  Oh,  Harold,  but  Ruth  does  so  love  singing,  and  she 
always  says  she  can  go  on  for  hours;  and  I  don't  think 
the  walk  really  tired  her."  No  answer — Harold  evidently 
maintained  his  opinion.  Then  Maureen  veered  off  in 
another  direction. 

"  Are  you  not  glad  mother  liked  her  so  much  ? 
Mother  is  so  dreadfully  critical;  but  Irene  tells  me  that 
she  has  taken  quite  a  fancy  to  Ruth." 

"  I  am  not  surprised,"  returned  Entre-nous,  cooly. 
"  My  mother  has  very  good  taste."  Then  he  took  up 
his  candlestick  and  wished  her  good-night;  clearly 
Entre-nous  was  not  in  a  conversational  mood. 


XXXI 

"OH  DEAR!   OH  DEAR!" 

For   every  evil   under  the  sun 
There   is   a   remedy,   or   there's   none; 
If  there's  a  remedy,  try  to  find  it ; 
If  there's  none,  try  not  to  mind  it. 

AN  OLD  AUTHOR. 

Whoso  is  heroic,  will  always  find  crises  to  try  his  edge. — 
EMERSON. 

RUTH  had  several  engagements  during  the  next  few 
days,  but  she  promised  to  write  and  appoint  some  time 
for  Maureen  to  come  over  to  Westcombe  Lodge  with 
one  of  her  sisters.  But  it  was  quite  a  week  before  the 
expected  letter  came.  Harold,  who  was  just  finishing  his 
breakfast,  glanced  at  it  as  Maureen  eagerly  opened  it; 
but  it  took  so  long  to  read,  though  it  was  evidently  shorter 
than  usual,  that  he  could  not  wait  until  she  had  finished  it. 
As  he  took  down  his  coat  from  the  peg,  for  it  was  a  cold, 
damp  morning,  Maureen  came  hastily  after  him. 

"  Oh,  Harold,  do  wait  a  moment.  I  cannot  make 
out  Ruth's  letter.  She  seems  in  some  trouble,  but  it 
is  all  so  vague."  Then  Harold  took  the  note  from  her 
hand  and  walked  off  into  the  empty  drawing-room,  and 
Maureen,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  followed  him. 
Harold  looked  rather  pale,  but  his  manner  was  as  decided 
as  ever. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  something  has  certainly  happened. 
I  wish  she  had  told  us  what  it  is.  But  she  seems  very 
unhappy.  It  must  be  some  trouble  with  her  people. 
Have  you  no  idea,  Maureen  ?  "  But  as  Maureen  shook 
her  head,  he  read  the  letter  over  again.  This  was  what 
Ruth  wrote,  and  it  was  evidently  written  in  a  hurry: — 

"  DEAR  MAUREEN — I  do  so  want  to  see  you.  I  am  in  such 
trouble  and  perplexity  that  I  hardly  know  what  to  do,  and 

283 


284  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

perhaps  you  might  be  able  to  help  me,  for  you  are  so  sensible 
and  see  things  so  clearly.  You  are  like  your  dear  aunt  in 
that 

"  I  cannot  ask  you  here,  for  Percy  is  laid  up  with  a  sprained 
ankle,  and  things  would  be  so  uncomfortable.  Do  you  think 
your  mother  would  let  you  meet  me  at  the  Kensington  Museum 
on  Thursday  morning?  Doris  wants  to  copy  a  frieze  that  has 
taken  her  fancy,  and  she  says  she  can  easily  finish  all  she 
wants  in  about  an  hour.  If  you  bring  Lois  or  Sybil  we  could 
meet  you  at  the  South  Kensington  Station, — that  is,  if  you 
will  let  me  know  your  train, — and  I  know  a  place  where  we 
can  have  luncheon  afterwards,  and  then  Doris  and  I  will  put 
you  in  the  train  for  Sipthorpe. 

"  Oh,  do  beg  your  mother  to  let  you  come,  for  I  feel  so 
miserable.  And  please,  please,  will  you  ask  your  brother  if 
he  knows  where  Romney  is  just  now,  for  he  has  not  written 
for  nearly  a  week,  and  I  must  get  a  letter  to  him.  I  am  afraid 
he  will  be  so  vexed  with  me,  too,  but  all  the  same  it  is  his 
duty  to  help  me." 

"  Do  you  think  mother  will  let  me  go,  Harold  ?  " 

"Of  course  she  will.  What  a  question?  But  you 
had  better  tell  her  things  very  plainly.  Mother  hates 
mysteries.  Take  Lois  with  you,  she  is  the  easiest  to 
manage.  And  when  you  write,  will  you  tell  Miss 
Chaytor  that  I  am  almost  certain  that  a  letter  directed 
to  the  Lowood  Hotel,  Windermere,  would  find  him? 
In  his  last  letter  to  me  he  said  he  meant  to  put  up  there 
for  about  a  week,  as  he  had  not  half  seen  it  in  his  previous 
visit.  Yes,  I  think  he  will  be  about  due  now.  She  might 
telegraph  to  the  manager,  answer  prepaid,  and  the  letter 
could  follow." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Harold.  I  will  tell  her  all  that 
most  carefully." 

"  You  had  better  speak  to  mother  at  once,  and  then 
catch  the  first  post,"  went  on  Harold,  in  a  business-like 
way ;  but  how  grave  and  careworn  he  looked.  "  Now 
I  must  be  off  or  I  shall  lose  my  train."  And  Maureen 
did  not  venture  to  detain  him. 

"  How  helpful  he  is,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she 
followed  her  mother  to  the  morning-room,  and  then  very 
hurriedly  made  known  her  business. 


"Oh  Dear!  Oh  Dear!"  285 

Anna,  who  was  mending  her  husband's  glove,  listened 
in  silence. 

"  I  wonder  what  is  wrong  with  the  child,"  she 
observed,  half  to  herself.  "  Of  course  you  must  go, 
Maureen.  You  could  hardly  refuse  such  a  request. 
And  either  Lois  or  Sybil  will  be  pleased  to  accompany 
you." 

"  I  think  I  will  take  Lois." 

"  Very  well.  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  stay  any  longer. 
Besides,  there  is  nothing  more  to  say.  You  must  respect 
your  friend's  confidence,  unless  you  are  sure  that  she 
would  wish  me  to  know  things."  For  Anna  always  told 
her  girls  that  though  she  had  a  right  to  expect  them 
to  be  perfectly  frank  and  open  with  her,  she  had  certainly 
no  right  to  their  friends'  little  secrets. 

Maureen  wrote  off  a  long  letter  to  Ruth,  and  posted 
it  herself.  But  the  day's  pleasure  was  spoiled  for  her. 
She  could  not  forget  Harold's  paleness  and  worried  look. 
"  What  a  pity,"  she  thought,  "  for  Give  was  coming 
home  on  Friday,  and  on  Saturday  they  were  to  have 
their  little  spree."  Clive  had  to  leave  for  Oxford  on 
the  following  Tuesday,  and  she  must  devote  herself  to 
him  during  those  three  days.  "  It  would  be  such  a 
pity,"  she  repeated,  "  if  Entre-nous,  who  had  seemed  so 
much  more  cheerful  the  last  few  days,  should  become 
grave  and  taciturn  again.  Clive  would  notice  it  and  chaff 
him,  and  then  Harold  would  shrink  still  more  into  his 
shell." 

Perhaps  it  was  as  well  for  both  the  young  people 
that  Harold  had  promised  to  spend  the  evening  with 
Mr.  Walton.  But  just  before  bedtime  Maureen  was 
surprised  to  receive  a  little  note  from  Ruth : — 

"  How  good  of  you  to  write  so  soon,  dear  Maureen,  and  to 
say  that  you  and  Lois  will  come,"  she  wrote.  "  It  will  be  such 
a  relief  to  talk  to  you.  Will  you  thank  your  brother  for  his 
kind  message,  and  tell  him  that  I  am  just  going  to  send  a 
telegram  to  the  Lowood  Hotel  before  I  post  my  letter  to 
Romney? — Your  loving  and  grateful  RUTH." 


286  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

Maureen  laid  this  note  on  Harold's  toilet-table,  but 
he  evidently  forgot  to  give  it  back  to  her  the  next  morn- 
ing. She  had  overslept  herself,  and  had  no  opportunity 
of  exchanging  a  word  with  him  alone ;  and  as  her  father 
and  Irene  were  present  she  thought  it  better  to  say 
nothing. 

Harold  looked  very  tired.  He  had  evidently  slept 
badly.  And  Irene  grumbled  because  he  did  not  do 
justice  to  the  excellent  breakfast  she  had  provided. 

Maureen  and  Lois  set  off  in  good  time.  They  found 
Ruth  and  Doris  waiting  for  them  at  the  head  of  the 
staircase.  Ruth,  who  looked  dejected  and  heavy-eyed, 
tried  to  summon  up  a  smile  when  she  saw  her  friend. 
Doris,  who  had  been  evidently  coached  in  her  part,  walked 
off  briskly  with  Lois,  and  the  other  two  girls  followed 
more  slowly. 

"  Oh,  what  is  it,  Ruth  ?  "  asked  Maureen,  anxiously ; 
but  Ruth  refused  to  talk  until  she  could  find  a  quiet 
corner. 

"  Doris  will  set  to  work  at  once,"  she  explained. 
"  She  wants  the  pattern  for  her  embroidery,  and  she  says 
it  will  not  take  her  very  long.  I  know  a  place  where 
we  shall  be  quite  by  ourselves." 

So  Maureen  had  to  exercise  her  patience  until  Doris 
was  settled  with  her  drawing  block  and  pencils,  with 
Lois  beside  her.  Then  Ruth  led  the  way  to  a  quiet 
nook  behind  a  group  of  statuary,  where  they  could  not 
be  overheard. 

"Well,  Ruth?" 

"  Yes ;  now  I  can  talk.  Oh,  Maureen,  dear,  you  have 
no  idea  how  dreadful  it  has  been  these  last  few  days. 
They  are  all  against  me  except  Doris,  and  she  is  such  a 
dear.  She  says  it  is  an  awful  shame,  and  that  Percy 
has  no  right  to  treat  me  so." 

"  Percy !    Your  cousin  Percival  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  didn't  you  guess  what  the  trouble  was  ? " 
Ruth's  cheeks  were  flaming.  "  I  could  not  write  about 
it,  and  I  thought  you  would  know." 


"Oh  Dear!  Oh  Dear!"  287 

"  No ;  Harold  asked  me,  and  I  said  I  had  no  idea." 
Then  Ruth  looked  extremely  disconcerted. 

"  How  strange !  "  she  returned,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I 
thought  your  brother  would  have  guessed.  I  know  he 
does  not  like  Percy — that  he  does  not  quite  approve  of 
him ;  and  of  course  he  is  quite  right.  How  dare  he  tell 
me  that  I  gave  him  encouragement,  and  that  I  ought 
to  have  been  prepared  for  his  proposal !  " 

"  When — when  did  it  happen  ?  "  Maureen  spoke  in 
an  awe-stricken  voice.  The  young  creature  beside  her, 
pretty,  childish  Ruth,  had  already  rejected  three  offers 
of  marriage.  Yes,  her  cousin  Percival  was  the  third. 
Maureen  wondered  how  it  felt  to  refuse  an  offer.  What 
a  terrible  experience  it  must  be  to  make  any  human  being 
unhappy!  But  though  Ruth  was  plainly  miserable,  she 
was  also  extremely  indignant. 

''  To-day  is  Wednesday,"  she  returned.  "  Oh,  how 
happy  we  were  last  Wednesday  at  the  dear  Homestead. 
It  was  on  Monday  afternoon  he  spoke.  It  was  that 
sprained  ankle  that  was  the  cause  of  it.  I  had  offered 
to  play  chess  with  him  because  all  the  others  were  out, 
and  he  played  so  badly  that  I  put  his  king  in  check  at 
once;  and  then  he  said  suddenly  that  he  was  not  quite 
in  the  mood  for  games,  and  that  he  wanted  to  talk  to 
me  very  seriously.  I  thought  his  manner  odd,  and  I 
was  rather  frightened  and  wanted  to  leave  him,  but  he 
caught  my  wrist  so  that  I  could  not  get  away,  and  then 
it  all  came  out." 

"  Oh  dear,  how  extremely  awkward !  " 

"  It  was  more  than  awkward,"  replied  Ruth,  indig- 
nantly. "  He  was  using  force  to  make  me  listen  to  him. 
There  was  quite  a  red  mark  on  my  wrist  when  he  let 
me  go.  He  said  he  loved  me — that  he  had  loved  me  for 
years — and  that  they  all  knew  it ;  that  if  I  did  not  promise 
to  marry  him  I  should  ruin  all  his  chances  of  happiness ; 
that  his  mother  and  father  had  always  wished  it,  and  that 
he  knew  Romney  was  on  his  side.  '  It  is  no  use  your 
coquetting  with  me  like  this,  Ruthie,'  he  went  on,  '  for 


288  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

you  have  given  me  plenty  of  encouragement.  I  never 
minded  a  few  flirtations.  "  Young  things  will  have  their 
frisks,"  I  said  to  mother,  "  but  Ruth  belongs  to  me,  and 
I  mean  to  claim  her."  '  Oh,  did  you  ever  hear  anything 
so  untrue,  Maureen  ?  " 

"Oh  dear!  oh  dear!" 

For  Maureen  had  no  experience  to  enable  her  to  deal 
with  such  a  case.  A  modern  novel  might  provide  her 
with  similar  situations,  but  she  could  not  recall  one. 
Poor  little  innocent  Ruth!  She  was  certainly  in  a  sad 
predicament. 

"  Of  course  you  are  not  in  love  with  him?  "  she  asked 
suddenly ;  and  Ruth  crimsoned  to  the  tips  of  her  pretty 
shell-like  ears. 

"  In  love  with  Percy !  I  should  think  not !  In  a 
way  I  am  fond  of  all  my  cousins,  but  Kenneth  is  my 
favourite;  he  is  a  dear  boy,  and  we  are  certainly  not  in 
love  with  each  other.  Cousins  are  like  brothers,  as  I 
told  Aunt  Sophy.  But  she  seemed  quite  annoyed  when 
I  said  that.  She  thinks  I  am  treating  him  very  badly, 
and  so  do  Uncle  George  and  Olivia.  He  has  talked 
them  all  over  to  his  side,  and  they  are  all  against  me." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  about  that  now.  I  want  to  know 
how  you  got  rid  of  your  cousin." 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  get  rid  of  him  for  a  long  time," 
returned  Ruth,  dejectedly.  "  I  had  to  make  him  quite 
angry  before  he  would  let  me  go.  I  told  him  that  he 
was  mistaken;  that  I  could  not  love  him  in  the  way  he 
wished,  and  that  I  never  should.  '  You  are  wrong  to 
say  I  belong  to  you,  Percy,  for  nothing  on  earth  would 
induce  me  to  marry  you.'  " 

"  '  Do  you  mean  that  you  care  for  some  other  fellow  ? ' 
— turning  quite  white  with  rage.  But  I  plucked  up  a 
little  spirit  then,  and  told  him  if  he  could  insult  me 
with  such  questions  he  need  not  expect  me  to  answer 
them. 

"  '  I  have  had  enough  of  this,'  for  I  was  growing 
exceedingly  angry ; '  and  if  you  do  not  let  me  go  instantly, 


"  Oh  Dear!  Oh  Dear!  "  289 

I  will  not  speak  to  you  again.'  And  then  he  loosened  his 
grasp  and  flung  himself  back  on  his  pillow,  and  I  could 
see  he  was  in  an  awful  temper. 

"  '  Go  if  you  like,'  he  said  quite  rudely.  You  have 
no  idea  how  ungentlemanly  Percy  can  be  when  he  is 
in  his  tantrums.  And  you  may  be  sure  I  soon  took 
advantage  of  my  liberty.  I  was  quite  hysterical  when 
I  reached  my  room." 

"  And  they  were  all  against  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  every  one  except  Doris,  and  she  was  so  good 
to  me.  Aunt  Sophy  cried,  and  said  that  I  had  made 
them  all  so  unhappy ;  that  Percy  had  set  his  heart  on  me, 
and  that  it  was  so  bad  for  him  to  be  disappointed.  '  And 
we  thought  you  cared  for  the  poor  boy,  too.'  And  then 
Olivia  chimed  in.  I  am  afraid,"  continued  Ruth  sorrow- 
fully, "  from  what  Olivia  said,  that  Romney  and  Uncle 
George  have  already  talked  things  over,  and  that  they 
both  think  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  me  to  marry 
Percy ;  but  I  shall  soon  undeceive  Romney  on  that  point." 

"  Have  you  sent  your  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Oh,  it  was  so  good  of  your  brother  to  help 
me.  I  had  an  answer  from  the  manager.  Romney  is 
expected  this  evening,  so  he  will  find  my  letter  awaiting 
him." 

"  And  you  have  told  him  all  ?  " 

"  Yes,  as  well  as  I  could ;  but  I  have  made  him  under- 
stand one  thing,  Maureen,  and  that  is  that  my  home 
can  no  longer  be  at  Westcombe  Lodge." 

"  Oh,  I  never  thought  of  that !  " 

"  It  was  the  first  thing  that  occurred  to  me,  and  I 
am  sure  that  Aunt  Sophy  realises  it  too.  Romney  must 
let  me  come  to  Marsh  Hall." 

"  He  could  not  refuse  under  the  circumstances." 

"  I  should  think  not,  but  it  will  put  him  out  dread- 
fully. Already  I  am  spoiling  his  trip,  for  I  know  he 
will  come  to  me  at  once.  If  only  Miss  Brydon  had 
been  at  the  Garden  House,  I  would  have  asked  her  to 
take  me  in." 

19 


290  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Aunt  Margaret  will  not  leave  Edinburgh  for  another 
fortnight,  and  she  will  spend  a  week  at  the  Homestead." 

"  So  you  told  me ;  but  I  could  not  remain  at  West- 
combe  Lodge  for  three  weeks.  You  have  no  idea  what 
I  have  to  go  through.  Percy  will  not  speak  to  me,  and 
he  looks  so  ill,  and  Aunt  Sophy  scarcely  leaves  him. 
He  is  her  favourite,  and  she  does  think  so  much  of  him. 
And  Olivia  and  Gwendoline  are  always  finding  fault 
with  me.  I  tell  Doris  that  but  for  her  I  should  run 
away."  Then  Maureen  tried  to  comfort  her. 

"  It  would  all  come  right  in  time,"  she  observed 
sensibly.  "  Ruth  must  not  make  herself  too  unhappy, 
for  she  was  not  the  least  to  blame,  and  her  cousins  would 
soon  discover  this  for  themselves.  Mr.  Chaytor  would 
be  very  kind  and  smooth  things  out  for  her,  and,  of 
course,  he  would  take  her  back  with  him  to  Marsh  Hall. 
How  nice  it  will  be  to  find  you  there  on  our  return," 
she  finished,  in  her  cheery  way. 

Ruth's  sad  little  face  brightened  under  this  judicious 
treatment.  By  the  time  Doris  had  drawn  her  pattern 
she  was  quite  able  to  turn  her  attention  to  luncheon ; 
and  in  spite  of  the  gravity  of  the  situation  Maureen  and 
Doris  managed  to  enjoy  themselves.  As  for  Lois,  she 
was  enchanted  with  her  morning's  entertainment. 

Mrs.  Brydon  had  expressed  a  wish  that  the  girls 
should  be  back  by  afternoon  tea ;  so  after  a  little  farther 
walk  and  a  peep  at  the  Natural  History  Museum  to 
please  Lois,  they  set  out  for  the  station. 

"  May  I  tell  mother,  Ruth  ?  "  asked  Maureen,  at  the 
last  moment ;  and  Ruth  had  said  "  Yes,  she  did  not  mind, 
if  Maureen  wished  it."  But  there  was  no  message  for 
Harold. 

Just  before  dinner  Maureen  found  an  opportunity  for 
speaking  to  her  mother.  Mrs.  Brydon  listened  with  much 
interest. 

"  Now,  child,"  she  said,  when  Maureen  had  finished 
her  brief  narrative,  "  I  think  that  young  man  behaved 
very  badly.  Of  course  Ruth  cannot  remain  there.  Her 


"  Oh  Dear!  Oh  Dear!  "  291 

brother  will  see  that  at  once."  And  then  the  sound  of 
the  latchkey  took  them  both  into  the  hall. 

It  was  impossible  to  speak  to  Harold  until  later  in 
the  evening,  although  she  knew  that  he  was  longing 
to  talk  to  her.  But  he  made  a  pretext  of  going  to  the 
smoking-room  earlier  than  usual,  and  she  followed  him 
just  in  time  to  see  him  bundling  Ninian  and  his  lesson- 
books  out  of  the  room. 

"  You  can  finish  them  in  the  dining-room,  Ninny ; 
I  want  to  talk  to  Maureen."  And  Ninian  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  but  did  not  venture  to  disobey. 

"  Well ! "  was  Entre-nous'  curt  observation ;  but  his 
hand  shook  a  little  as  he  lighted  his  cigarette.  Then 
Maureen,  nothing  loath,  told  her  story. 

"  Ruth  thought  we  should  have  guessed  that  the 
trouble  was  owing  to  her  cousin,"  she  observed,  when 
she  had  made  things  pretty  clear  to  her  listener. 

"  How  could  we  guess  that  the  fellow  would  be  such 
an  unmitigated  cad  ?  "  returned  Howard,  savagely.  "  He 
deserves  to  be  kicked." 

"  I  think  he  took  a  mean  advantage  of  her." 

"  Her  brother  must  take  her  home ;  there  is  no  other 
course  open.  She  must  be  protected  from  such  insults 
in  future.  Oh,  if  we  only  had  the  power!  But  no,  it 
would  not  be  right." 

•Now  what  was  there  in  these  few  vague  words  that 
made  the  veil  drop  suddenly  from  Maureen's  eyes  ?  And 
what  was  that  look  on  Harold's  face  which  brought  a 
little  sob  to  her  throat  ?  But  the  next  moment  her  arms 
were  round  his  neck,  and  she  was  whispering  in  his  ears, 
"  Oh,  my  poor  dear  boy,  has  it  gone  as  deeply  as  that,  and 
I  never  knew  ?  "  And  Maureen's  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 


XXXII 

"HE  DOES  NOT  SEEM  QUITE  FIT" 

Did  you  tackle  the  trouble  that  came  your  way 
With  a  resolute  heart  and  cheerful? 
Or  hide  your  face  from  the  light  of  day 
With  a  craven  soul  and  fearful  ? 

You  are  beaten  to  earth!     Well,  what  of  that? 
'  Come  up  with  a  smiling  face; 
It's  nothing  against  you  to  fall  down  flat, 
But  to  lie  there — that's  disgrace. 

ANON. 

THAT  settled  the  business. 

The  assault  was  so  unexpected,  the  beleaguered  garri- 
son so  disorganised  and  off  their  guard,  that  an  honour- 
able capitulation  was  the  only  possible  result,  and  a  flag 
of  truce  was  at  once  unfurled.  Maureen's  impulsiveness 
had  won  the  day;  Entre-nous'  secret  was  no  longer  a 
secret.  Maureen's  tearful  sympathy  unloosened  his 
tongue,  and  he  no  longer  refused  his  confidence. 

"When  did  you  first  find  it  out,  dear?"  she  almost 
whispered.  Maureen  was  sitting  quite  close  to  him,  and 
two  little  soft  brown  hands  were  locked  on  his  arm; 
perhaps  Harold  hardly  noticed  them. 

"When  did  I  first  care  for  her?"  he  returned,  in  a 
voice  that  Maureen  scarcely  recognised,  and  which 
thrilled  her  with  unaccustomed  pain.  "  I  hardly  know ; 
I  think  it  was  that  first  day  when  we  went  to  Marsh 
Hall,  and  she  came  through  the  rose  arch  to  meet  us." 

"  Dear  Harold,  surely  not  as  long  ago  as  that !  " 

"  I  think  so ;  I  am  sure  of  it.  We  went  up  on  the 
roof  after  tea.  I  remember  every  word  she  said  to  me  " 
— here  his  eyes  grew  dark  and  dreamy.  "  I  had  never 
seen  any  one  like  her — never." 

"  Ruth  is  so  very  very  pretty,"  murmured  Maureen. 

292 


"  He  Does  Not  Seem  Quite  Fit ;       293 

"  It  is  not  her  beauty  I  mean,"  he  returned,  a  little 
impatiently.  "  I  have  seen  scores  of  pretty  girls  at 
Oxford,  but  I  never  gave  one  of  them  a  second  thought ; 
but  she  " — he  seemed  reluctant  to  say  her  name — "  is  so 
different.  There  is  a  friendliness,  a  kindness  and  charm 
about  her,  that  I  cannot  describe."  But  to  himself  he 
added :  "  It  is  her  sweetness  and  childish  innocence  and 
goodness  which  seem  to  bowl  me  over." 

"  I  know  she  is  a  darling,  Harold."  Then  as  he 
turned  to  her  there  was  again  that  strange  glow  in  his 
eyes. 

"  I  am  glad  you  appreciate  her,  Maureen,  but  I  could 
never  bring  myself  to  speak  of  her.  I  dared  not  betray 
myself.  She  is  not  happy ;  her  environment  does  not  suit 
her,  and  Chaytor  does  not  understand  her." 

"  No,  I  am  afraid  not ;  and  yet  he  is  very  fond  of  her. 
Harold,  I  want  to  say  something,  but  I  hardly  know  how 
you  will  take  it;  you  have  seemed  so  depressed  lately,  as 
though  you  had  no  heart  for  anything." 

"  That  is  true,"  he  muttered,  under  his  breath,  but 
Maureen  heard  him. 

"  But  why  should  it  be  true  ?  There  can  be  no  harm, 
surely,  in  your  loving  Ruth ;  other  men  have  done  so. 
You  are  a  gentleman,  and  have  been  to  the  university, 
and  you  are  clever  and  likely  to  get  on,  and  sometimes 
I  fancy  " — here  Maureen  reddened,  for  she  was  not  sure 
she  was  speaking  wisely  or  well — "  that  Ruth  thinks 
more  highly  of  you  than  of  most  people ;  she  has  such 
a  respect  for  your  opinion." 

"  Hush  !  don't  tempt  me,"  he  returned,  a  little  hoarsely. 
"  I  was  fool  enough  to  tell  myself  the  same  thing  until 
that  afternoon  we  went  to  Westcombe  Lodge." 

"  But  Ruth  was  so  nice  to  you,"  exclaimed  Maureen, 
in  a  puzzled  voice.  "She  was  talking  to  you  most  of 
the  time,  and  you  both  looked  so  happy." 

"  I  paid  dearly  for  my  enjoyment  afterwards,"  he 
replied  grimly.  "  That  visit  put  me  in  my  proper  place. 
Good  heavens !  the  house  and  the  whole  atmosphere 


294  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

reeked  of  money :  every  room,  every  carpet,  every  picture, 
even  Mrs.  Chaytor's  gown  and  her  diamond  and  emerald 
rings, — all  spoke  of  wealth.  Think  of  the  contrast 
between  the  Homestead  and  Westcombe  Lodge  or  even 
Marsh  Hall." 

"  Of  course  I  know  what  you  mean,  Harold,"  she 
returned  sorrowfully,  "  and  I  wish  Ruth  were  not  so 
rich  for  your  sake — not  that  she  cares,"  brightening  up 
at  the  thought  of  Ruth's  unworldliness.  "  She  does  not 
even  know  the  amount  of  her  fortune,  for  she  told  me 
so  herself." 

"  That  is  because  her  uncle  and  brother  manage  her 
business,  and  she  knows  nothing  about  investments.  I 
may  be  a  fool  to  have  run  my  head  into  this  thorn- 
bush,  but  I  am  not  such  an  utter  ass  as  to  believe  that 
an  unfledged  solicitor,  with  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  a  year,  would  be  a  fit  mate  for  the  beautiful 
Miss  Chaytor.  That  is  what  I  have  heard  her  called, 
Maureen." 

"  Wait  a  moment.  I  have  not  quite  finished  all  I 
wanted  to  say,  dear.  Olivia  Chaytor  has  money — all  the 
girls  have — and  she  is  going  to  marry  a  barrister.  Ruth 
told  me  that  he  was  only  just  holding  his  second  brief, 
so  he  cannot  be  rich." 

"  No,  but  he  is  the  presumptive  heir  to  a  baronetcy, 
and  all  his  connections  are  influential  people.  Chaytor 
told  me  himself  that  his  cousin  was  making  a  very  good 
match,  and  that  his  uncle  was  extremely  pleased  about 
it.  I  like  the  fellow  uncommonly." 

"  Oh,  but,  Harold " 

"  No,  I  am  not  going  to  drug  myself  with  any  such 
false  comfort.  It  would  only  make  the  awakening  more 
bitter.  Her  cousin  behaved  like  a  cad ;  it  is  a  put-up  job, 
and  they  are  all  aiding  and  abetting  him.  They  want 
Miss  Chaytor's  money  to  remain  in  the  family,  and  so 
the  fellow  pretends  to  be  fond  of  her." 

"  But,  Harold,  I  am  afraid  he  really  is  in  love  with 
Ruth." 


"  He  Does  Not  Seem  Quite  Fit "      295 

"  A  pretty  sort  of  love,"  he  returned,  contemptuously. 
"  But  it  is  one  comfort  he  has  certainly  opened  her 
eyes.  Look  here,  Maureen,"  and  Harold's  manner  had 
changed  again,  "  you  mean  to  be  kind,  and  I  am  ever  so 
much  obliged  to  you  for  your  sympathy,  but  I  don't 
want  you  to  say  this  sort  of  thing  again,  or  even  to 
think  it  if  you  can  help  it.  I  have  got  to  face  my  trouble 
as  well  as  I  can,  and  to  do  my  work,  and  it  won't  help 
me  in  the  least  to  think  there  is  a  chance  for  me." 

"  But  surely  you  have  not  given  up  hope,  dear  ?  " 

"  One  cannot  give  up  what  one  has  never  possessed  " 
— in  a  sad  voice.  "  But  I  suppose  as  long  as  she  is 
unmarried  I  shall  not  be  utterly  miserable." 

"  But  if  she  cares  for  you  " — Maureen  whispered  the 
words.  Then  a  dark  flush  crossed  the  young  man's  face. 

"  But  she  does  not,  except  in  a  childish,  innocent 
way.  She  is  so  young.  Do-  you  suppose  I  would  take 
advantage  of  her  inexperience?  That  would  be  a  poor 
return  for  her  brother's  friendship.  What  are  you  doing, 
Maureen  ? "  for  the  girl  had  laid  her  cheek  first  and 
then  her  lips  against  his  hand. 

"  It  is  only  that  you  are  so  good,  so  good,"  she  said 
in  a  broken  voice ;  "  and — and  I  am  so  proud  of  you." 
It  was  at  this  minute  that  Daniel  Brydon,  with  his  hand 
on  the  door-handle,  heard  voices,  and  noiselessly  with- 
drew to  the  drawing-room. 

"  I  must  let  the  children  finish  their  talk,"  he  said  to 
'  himself.  "  It  was  Maureen's  voice,  I  fancy.  By  and  by 
I  will  give  her  a  hint  that  it  is  getting  late,  and  that  her 
mother  has  gone  upstairs."  But  when  in  half  an  hour 
he  returned,  Maureen  had  disappeared,  and  Harold  was 
knocking  out  the  ashes  of  the  pipe  he  had  forgotten  to 
smoke. 

Before  Maureen  had  left  she  had  said  a  word  about 
Clive. 

"  I  do  wish  he  were  not  coming  to-morrow,"  she  said. 
"  Clive  will  expect  us  to  be  in  such  good  spirits." 

"  Then  we  must  do  our  best  not  to  disappoint  him," 


296  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

was  the  cool  rejoinder.  "  If  one  is  worried  one  need 
not  take  the  world  into  confidence.  Clive  will  be  very 
welcome."  But  Harold  had  with  difficulty  repressed  a 
sigh  as  he  made  this  magnanimous  speech. 

"  Oh,  if  Ruth  knew  him  as  I  do,"  Maureen  said  to 
herself,  as  she  crept  upstairs,  "  she  could  not  help  loving 
him,  if  she  does  not  already  " ;  and  there  was  a  furtive 
little  smile  on  Maureen's  lips.  "  Ruth  may  be  young  and 
rather  childish  in  some  things,  but  at  nineteen  a  girl 
ought  to  know  her  own  mind,"  she  thought. 

The  next  day  Ruth  sent  her  a  few  hurried  words : 

"  Romney  has  my  letter.  He  has  telegraphed  that  he  will 
be  here  to-night,  but  he  evidently  does  not  wish  me  to  stay 
up  to  receive  him.  There,  I  will  enclose  the  telegram — you  will 
see  I  have  read  between  the  lines : 

" '  Coming  to-night.  Do  not  wait  up ;  probably  late.  Gale 
follows  with  motor.' 

"  Is  he  not  a  dear  fellow  to  come  so  quickly ! " 

Maureen  slipped  this  note  into  Harold's  tie  and  hand- 
kerchief drawer,  and  was  reprimanded  afterwards  for 
her  carelessness  and  want  of  thought.  "  Clive  always 
makes  free  with  my  things,"  observed  Harold,  severely, 
"  and  if  he  had  opened  that  drawer  he  would  have  seen 
it " ;  and  Maureen  expressed  her  contrition. 

Somehow  Maureen  could  not  think  of  Ruth's  troubles 
that  evening,  with  dive's  boyish  laugh  ringing  in  her 
ears.  She  had  forgotten  how  nice-looking  he  was;  but 
then  even  the  girls  said  he  was  wonderfully  improved. 
From  the  moment  she  heard  his  "  Holloa,  Brownie,"  his 
usual  name  for  her,  her  heart  seemed  to  go  out  to  him ; 
and  even  her  mother  smoothed  his  fair  hair  in  rather  a 
caressing  manner,  as  she  told  him  how  glad  she  was  to 
have  him  back  again. 

It  was  an  object  lesson  to  Maureen  to  see  Harold's 
noble  efforts  to  be  cheerful,  so  that  dive's  brief  visit 
home  should  not  be  damped;  the  two  brothers  were 
deeply  attached  to  each  other.  But  no  one  would  have 


"  He  Does  Not  Seem  Quite  Fit "     297 

found  anything  amiss  with  the  three  young  people  who 
were  eating  their  dinner  with  evident  enjoyment  that 
Saturday  evening ;  indeed  more  than  one  stranger  glanced 
round  with  a  smile  as  Clive's  cheery  laugh  rang  out  in 
answer  to  -some  dry  remark  on  Harold's  part. 

"  Is  he  really  enjoying  it  all,"  Maureen  asked  herself 
anxiously,  as  they  prepared  to  set  off  for  the  theatre, 
"  or  is  he  only  pretending  for  our  sakes  ?  "  But  Entre- 
nous  kept  his  own  counsel,  and  Maureen  was  baffled. 
She  was  rather  surprised  then  at  a  remark  Clive  made 
the  following  day. 

It  was  a  lovely  October  afternoon,  and  the  whole 
Brydon  family,  with  the  exception  of  Anna,  had  sallied 
forth  for  a  lengthy  stroll  over  the  Common.  Presently 
Maureen  found  herself  alone  with  Clive.  He  had  lingered 
for  a  moment  to  admire  the  silvery  boles  of  a  group  of 
young  birches,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  had  gone  on. 

"  How  awfully  jolly  this  is !  "  exclaimed  Clive ;  "  you 
girls  ought  to  come  here  every  day.  By  the  bye, 
Brownie,  are  you  sure  Harold  is  all  right  ?  "  For  Clive 
had  almost  the  perception  of  a  woman,  and  always 
noticed  at  once  if  any  one  was  not  up  to  the  mark. 

"All  right!  What  do  you  mean,  Givey?"  Maureen 
was  disentangling  her  dress  from  a  troublesome  bramble, 
and  Clive  went  to  her  help. 

"  Gently,  gently,  my  dear  child,  or  you  will  tear  your 
frock  —  there,  you  are  free  now.  What  do  I  mean? 
Well,  old  Harold  seems  a  little  off  his  food,  and  looks 
as  solemn  as  though  he  has  the  affairs  of  the  nation  on 
his  shoulders." 

"  Why,  what  nonsense !  "  returned  Maureen.  "  Harold 
was  as  cheerful  as  the  rest  of  us;  and  he  certainly 
enjoyed  his  dinner  last  night." 

"  All  the  same  he  does  not  seem  quite  fit,"  replied 
Give,  obstinately.  "  I  hope  he  and  the  governor  hit  it 
off!" 

"  You  need  not  fear  about  that,"  was  Maureen's  reply. 
She  was  immensely  relieved  that  Give's  thoughts  had 


298  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  HiU 

turned  in  this  direction.  "  I  am  glad  to  say  that  Harold 
likes  his  work  better  than  he  expected,  and  father  is  more 
than  satisfied." 

"  You  are  quite  sure  of  that,  Miss  Brown  ?  " — another 
of  the  Brydon  names. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  and  then  Clive  seemed  content.  And  as 
Harold  did  not  relax  his  efforts  to  maintain  outward 
cheerfulness,  Clive  merely  thought  he  was  a  bit  over- 
worked. 

On  Clive's  last  morning  Maureen  received  a  letter 
from  Ruth  with  the  Branksmere  postmark,  but  she  put 
it  into  her  pocket  unread.  Clive  was  to  leave  early  and 
she  had  to  help  him  pack,  and  she  did  not  wish  to  be 
engrossed  or  to  excite  his  curiosity.  The  letter  would 
keep,  and  she  would  retire  into  her  own  room  after 
luncheon  and  read  it  undisturbed. 

"  Miss  Brown  is  awfully  improved,"  Clive  informed 
Irene.  "  She  is  not  a  bad-looking  girl  by  any  means, 
and  there  is  something  rather  fetching  about  her."  And 
Irene  good-naturedly  repeated  this  speech  to  Maureen. 

Ruth  had  not  written  a  cheerful  letter;  she  was  evi- 
dently much  depressed.  She  had  left  Westcombe  Lodge, 
she  wrote,  and  it  was  not  likely  that  she  would  go  back 
there  for  a  long  time ;  and  certainly  it  could  never  be  her 
home  again — even  Romney  realised  that.  But  it  was  very 
hard  to  leave  it  in  this  way,  as  though  she  had  somehow 
disgraced  herself. 

"  Romney  is  very  kind,  and  I  am  sure  he  is  sorry  for  me," 
she  went  on,  "  but  Aunt  Sophy  and  Olivia  have  been  talking  to 
him ;  and  though  he  does  not  say  so,  I  am  sure  that  he  thinks 
I  am  in  some  way  to  blame.  His  manner  gives  me  that  im- 
pression, and  he  looks  rather  worried.  I  am  quite  sure  now 
that  he  would  have  liked  me  to  marry  Percy.  He  said  the  other 
evening  that  he  was  a  good-hearted  fellow,  and  that  he  was  very 
deeply  attached  to  me.  '  I  daresay  the  girls  have  spoilt  him 
a  bit,  because  he  is  a  fine-looking  chap ;  and  so  he  puts  on  side, 
but  there  is  no  vice  in  him.'  So  you  see,  Maureen,  even  Rom- 
ney is  on  his  side.  But  I  don't  care;  if  they  talked  for  a  year 
I  vrould  never  consent  to  marry  him.  As  I  tell  Romney,  there 


"  He  Does  Not  Seem  Quite  Fit "      299 

is  no  hurry ;  I  am  young  enough  to  wait ;  and  if  he  can  put 
up  with  me  at  Marsh  Hall,  I  shall  be  happier  there  with 
him  than  ever  I  was  at  Westcombe  Lodge.  But  he  only  shakes 
his  head  incredulously  when  I  say  this.  I  am  afraid,  Maureen, 
that  I  really  shall  be  in  his  way.  I  have  brought  him  back 
some  weeks  before  he  meant  to  come.  Oh,  that  money,  what 
an  incubus  it  is !  It  seems  to  be  always  in  my  way.  I  do  wish 
Romney  would  marry  some  nice  sensible  girl  who  could  go 
about  with  him  and  make  him  happy,  and  leave  me  to  keep 
house  in  their  absence.  What  walks  and  talks  we  would  have, 
Maureen!  But  I  don't  want  one  of  the  Brants  for  my  sister-in- 
law." 

Ruth  was  evidently  trying  to  keep  up  her  spirits  by 
writing  nonsense.  But  this  portion  of  the  letter  rather 
jarred  on  Maureen,  and  this  time  she  did  not  offer  it 
for  Harold's  perusal ;  but  he  did  not  seem  to  expect  it. 

"  It  is  for  your  eyes,  not  mine,"  he  said  rather 
pointedly,  as  she  half-apologised  for  not  showing  it  to 
him.  "  It  would  not  be  fair  for  me  to  read  it.  I  know 
you  will  tell  me  anything  of  real  importance.  I  am 
glad  she  is  safe  at  Marsh  Hall.  One  cannot  expect  her 
to  be  quite  happy  after  such  an  upset." 

But  after  this  Harold  said  no  more.  Entre-nous  had 
relapsed  into  his  old  reserved  manner,  and  Maureen  was 
sure  that  her  mother  noticed  it.  But  it  was  not  her  way 
to  solicit  her  children's  confidence  unless  it  was  given 
voluntarily ;  her  sons  especially  must  not  feel  a  tight  rein. 
But  when  Margaret  arrived,  and  a  fitting  opportunity 
came,  Anna  said  a  word  or  two  to  her  sister-in-law. 

"  I  am  not  quite  satisfied  about  Harold,"  she  said. 
"  He  is  working  splendidly,  and  is  the  greatest  help 
and  comfort  to  his  father.  And  he  is  well — there  is 
nothing  amiss  with  his  health ;  but  he  seems  so 
depressed." 

"  Have  you  questioned  Maureen  ?  She  and  Harold 
are  chums." 

"  No ;  I  do  not  like  to  do  that.  The  young  people 
have  their  little  confidences,  and  brothers  often  tell  their 


300  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

sisters  things ;  but  Dan  and  I  never  think  it  well  to  watch 
young  men  too  closely." 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  returned  Margaret,  smiling. 
"  You  think  Harold  may  be  in  love.  Well,  at  his  age 
it  is  not  impossible  " ;  and  then  she  looked  at  Anna  rather 
steadily.  "  I  confess  I  had  a  suspicion  once  or  twice  at 
the  Garden  House  that  he  rather  admired  Ruth  Chaytor. 
Did  you  notice  anything  when  she  was  here  ? "  But 
Anna  shook  her  head. 

"  He  seemed  very  happy  and  animated,  and  so  did 
she.  She  is  a  sweet  girl,  Margaret,  and  I  confess  I 
almost  fell  in  love  with  her  myself.  If  only  she  were 
not  so  rich,"  with  a  sigh.  "  But  Maureen  must  not 
encourage  her  visits.  I  cannot  have  the  poor  boy  upset." 

But  it  was  not  until  afterwards  that  Irene  told  her 
aunt  about  the  red  and  gold  chrysanthemums. 

"  I  never  saw  the  drawing-room  look  as  it  did  that 
day  when  Ruth  came,  did  you,  Maureen  ?  "  she  asked, 
innocently.  "  Harold  brought  the  flowers  down  from 
town  with  him,  and  I  scolded  him  well  for  his  extrava- 
gance. But  happily  mother  never  noticed." 

Then  Maureen  gave  her  aunt  a  quick,  appealing  look, 
which  Margaret  understood. 

"  Irene  has  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,"  she  said  to 
herself.  But  she  was  very  loyal  to  Maureen's  unspoken 
request,  and  nothing  more  passed  between  her  and  Anna 
on  that  subject. 


xxxin 

THE  SON   OF  JEZEBEL 

But  what  if  I  fail  of  my  purpose  here? 
It  is  but  to  keep  the  nerves  at  strain, 

To  dry  one's  eyes  and  laugh  at  a  fall, 
And,  baffled,  get  up  and  begin  again. 

R.  BROWNING. 

Difficulties  exist  only  to  be  overcome. — ANON. 

MARGARET  could  not  be  induced  to  stay  more  than 
ten  days  at  the  Homestead.  She  said  frankly  that  she 
was  homesick,  and  that  the  garden  and  Master  were 
calling  for  her  so  loudly  that  it  was  no  use  trying  to 
stop  her  ears. 

"  I  have  a  vivid  impression  of  Master  lying  on  the 
hall-mat  with  his  nose  between  his  paws,  and  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  front  door.  Every  morning  the  dear  fellow 
says  to  himself,  '  Mistress  is  coming  back  to-day,'  and 
every  night  he  slinks  to  my  door  with  drooping  tail  and 
tucks  himself  up  to  dream  of  a  blissful  morrow." 

"  Humph ! "  observed  Daniel  to  himself,  for  these 
pathetic  words  had  been  addressed  to  him.  "  I  wonder 
if  any  one  else  is  calling  beside  Master  and  the  garden  ?  " 
But  on  this  point  sister  Peg  was  silent. 

It  was  natural  that  Maureen's  feelings  should  be  a 
little  mixed.  The  last  five  or  six  weeks  had  been  simply 
delightful.  Every  one  had  been  so  kind  and  made  so 
much  of  her.  But  even  her  gratitude  for  past  enjoyment 
could  not  make  the  good-bye  pleasant.  It  was  especially 
hard  to  leave  Harold.  She  knew  that  he  would  miss  her, 
and  that  no  other  could  take  her  place.  She  was  a  little 
disappointed  to  see  that  he  made  no  effort  to  seek  her 
company  on  the  last  evening,  and  it  was  quite  by  accident 
that  she  found  him  alone  in  the  morning-room.  Daniel 
had  remained  behind  for  a  final  chat  with  Margaret. 

301 


302  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

She  thought  he  seemed  pleased  to  see  her,  however,  for 
he  drew  a  chair  closer  to  the  fire. 

"  So  you  are  off  to-morrow,"  he  remarked.  "  Well, 
I  need  not  say  that  we  shall  miss  you.  But  I  don't 
suppose  it  is  quite  such  a  wrench  for  you  this  time." 

"  Well,  perhaps  not,"  returned  Maureen,  honestly ; 
"  but  I  feel  as  though  I  were  cut  in  halves.  When  I 
get  back  I  shall  want  you  all  dreadfully.  I  always  do. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  am  happy  with  Aunt  Margaret, 
and  I  love  the  Garden  House.  And  there  is  Ruth,  and 
by-the-bye  " — checking  herself  abruptly — "  have  you  any 
message  for  Marsh  Hall  ?  "  Then  Harold  took  up  the 
poker  and  tried  to  demolish  the  bright  little  fire. 

"  You  can  give  my  kind  regards  to  Miss  Chaytor ; 
I  expect  I  shall  be  writing  to  her  brother  in  a  day  or 
two,  about  a  question  he  asked  me.  You  can  tell  her,  if 
you  like,  that  I  am  very  glad  that  she  is  at  Marsh  Hall." 

"And  that  is  all?"' 

"  Why,  of  course,"  his  lip  curling  a  little  at  this 
obtuseness.  "  It  is  not  likely  that  I  should  send  any 
other  message.  I  know,"  prodding  the  coals  aimlessly, 
"  that  you  will  tell  me  how  things  go  on,  but  you  need 
not  bother  to  write  often." 

"  But  it  is  such  a  pleasure,  Harold." 

"  All  right  then ;  in  that  case  I  shall  be  very  pleased 
to  hear  anything  you  like  to  tell  me." 

"  Then  you  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  write,"  nodding 
her  head  at  him.  "  But,  Harold,  you  have  not  forgotten 
that  Aunt  Margaret  has  invited  you  to  come  for  a 
week-end  whenever  you  like  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not  forgotten ;  but  I  am  not  sure  that 
it  will  be  wise  to  come."  And  to  himself  Harold  said 
drearily,  "  A  burnt  child  dreads  the  fire."  Then  he  con- 
tinued rather  moodily,  "  One  has  quite  enough  to  bear ; 
and  unless  there  is  some  reason  for  it  I  shall  not  let 
myself  be  tempted."  Then  Maureen  very  wisely  held 
her  peace,  and  after  this  he  bade  her  good-night  very 
affectionately. 


The  Son  of  Jezebel  303 

"  He  is  hard  hit,"  she  said  sorrowfully  to  herself,  as 
she  went  upstairs.  "  He  cannot  say  her  name  without  an 
effort,  and  there  is  such  a  melancholy  look  in  his  eyes 
when  he  speaks  of  her.  I  wonder  what  Aunt  Margaret 
thinks  ?  I  am  sure  she  guesses ;  but  I  don't  believe  she 
will  speak  about  it."  And  she  was  right.  Margaret's 
eyes  were  open,  she  was  watchful  but  silent.  The  shaping 
of  human  destinies  was  not  in  her  hands,  and  she  knew 
better  than  to  play  games  of  hazard  with  youthful  hearts. 
'  The  thoughts  of  youth  are  long  long  thoughts,'  " 
she  said  once  to  Anna.  "  Young  growing  things  must 
have  plenty  of  room ;  and  with  good  soil  and  skilled 
training  they  will  do  the  rest  themselves."  And  Anna 
had  assented  to  this,  for  she  was  not  one  to  pluck  up 
promising  plants  by  the  roots  to  see  if  they  were  growing. 

Maureen  could  not  quite  rise  to  Margaret's  level  of 
childlike  rapture  when  she  drove  up  to  the  Garden 
House,  and  yet  she  was  pleased  to  find  herself  there 
again.  And  as  she  watched  the  meeting  between  Mistress 
and  Master,  and  saw  the  dusty  marks  of  paws  on 
Margaret's  jacket,  she  could  not  refuse  her  tribute  of 
sympathy.  "  Poor  Master,  how  dull  he  must  have  been," 
she  observed,  as  the  huge  creature,  transformed  for  the 
time  into  a  puppy,  tore  madly  round  the  hall  and  dining- 
room,  and  then  in  sheer  love  and  joy  nearly  knocked  his 
mistress  down. 

Margaret  took  him  out  into  the  garden  to  calm  his 
exuberant  spirits;  but  she  stopped  out  so  long  that  it 
was  quite  dusk,  and  Maureen  was  tired  of  waiting  for 
her  tea,  when  Margaret  returned  with  glowing  cheeks 
and  her  faithful  satellite  beside  her. 

"  Oh,  Maureen,  you  naughty  girl,  you  have  surely  not 
waited  all  this  time !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  penitent  voice. 
"  But  Master  and  I  were  enjoying  ourselves  so  much." 

"  I  can't  think  how  you  could  stop  there  so  long," 
returned  Maureen.  "  Gardens  in  November  are  so  dis- 
mal; nothing  but  bare  bushes,  dead  leaves,  and  just  a 
few  chrysanthemums  here  and  there." 


304  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  My  garden  is  never  dismal,"  replied  Margaret, 
pouring  out  a  cup  of  tea  for  herself.  "  I  wanted  to  kiss 
every  flower,  and  to  tell  the  poor  dear  plants  not  to  be 
ashamed  of  their  brown  stalks  and  shabby  appearance, 
for  they  would  be  all  right  in  the  spring.  And  though 
it  was  dusk,  and  there  was  a  dank  sea-wind  blowing  in 
my  face,  I  felt  so  uplifted  with  the  joy  of  it  all,  that  I  was 
obliged  to  repeat  my  favourite  morning  poem." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  had  a  favourite  morning  poem, 
Aunt  Maggie." 

"  Yes ;  and  I  always  repeat  a  stanza  or  two  as  I  brush 
my  hair,  it  seems  to  brace  me  up  and  do  me  good.  Would 
you  like  me  to  repeat  a  verse  or  two  ?  I  do  not  remember 
all."  And  as  Maureen  nodded  delightedly,  Margaret 
began  in  her  rich  deep  voice : 

" '  Every  day  is  a  fresh  beginning, 
Every  morn  is  a  world  made  new, 
You  are  weary  of  sorrow  and  sinning, 
Here  is  a  beautiful  Hope  for  you, 
A  Hope  for  me,  and  a  Hope  for  you.' 

"  Oh,  please  don't  stop,"  as  Margaret  paused  a 
moment — 

"'Here  are  the  skies  all  burnished  brightly, 
Here  is  the  spent  earth  all  reborn; 
Here  are  the  tired  limbs  springing  lightly, 
To  face  the  sun  and  to  share  with  the  morn 
In  the  chrism  of  dew  and  the  cool  of  the  dawn. 

"  Every  day  is  a  fresh  beginning, 
Listen,  my  soul,  to  its  glad  refrain, 
And  spite  of  old  sorrows  and  older  sinning, 
And  puzzles  forecasted,  and  possible  pain, 
Take  heart  with  the  day  and  begin  again.'" 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Margaret,  how  beautiful !  Who  wrote 
them?" 

"  Susan  Coolidge,  I  believe.     They  haunt  me  some- 


The  Son  of  Jezebel  305 

times  from  morning  to  night.     And  so  I  told  the  poor 
wallflowers  and  pansies 

" '  Here's   a   beautiful    Hope   for   you, 
A  Hope  for  me,  and  a  Hope  for  you.' " 

"  I  should  like  some  one  to  set  those  words  to  music," 
returned  Maureen.  "  Now,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I 
think  I  will  do  my  unpacking." 

"  So  will  not  I,"  observed  Margaret,  settling  herself 
more  comfortably  in  her  easy-chair.  She  had  flung  her 
hat  down  on  the  couch,  and  smoothed  her  dishevelled  hair 
with  her  hands. 

As  Maureen  entered  her  own  room  and  set  to  work 
busily,  she  was  fully  made  aware  by  Master's  bark  that 
some  visitor  had  made  his  appearance. 

"  Of  course  it  is  only  Mr.  Torrance,"  she  said  to  her- 
self. "  I  felt,  somehow,  that  Aunt  Margaret  was  expect- 
ing some  one.  Now  I  can  be  as  long  as  I  like,  and 
leave  them  to  have  a  good  chat."  And  it  was  over  an 
hour  before  Maureen  was  ready  to  go  downstairs. 

Mr.  Torrance  was  still  there,  but  he  took  his 
departure  almost  directly. 

"  I  was  only  waiting  to  see  you,"  he  said  to  Maureen. 
"  It  is  my  dinner-hour  already,  and  Joanna  will  be  out 
of  temper  if  the  fish  is  spoiled." 

"  You  should  not  give  in  to  her,"  returned  Margaret, 
lazily.  "  Even  punctuality  can  deteriorate  into  a  vice  if 
carried  too  far.  We  can  say  that  of  all  virtues,  eh, 
Henry?"  And  he  laughed  and  said  "Yes."  Maureen 
let  him  out. 

"  I  do  not  think  Mr.  Torrance  looks  as  well  as  usual," 
she  observed,  when  she  returned  to  the  dining-room. 

Margaret,  who  was  looking  thoughtfully  into  the  fire, 
turned  round  slowly. 

"  I  was  thinking  so  myself.  He  has  been  working 
too  hard  all  this  year,  and  he  looks  quite  thin ;  but  he  is 
going  away  for  a  few  days'  rest.  He  says  he  has  never 

£0 


306  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

been  so  busy  and  worried,  and  I  am  afraid  he  has  been 
very  dull,  for  even  the  Rectory  has  been  empty." 

"  Oh,  what  a  pity !  " 

"  Yes ;  Joanna,  excellent  as  she  is,  and  Tobias,  consti- 
tute a  very  limited  society.  I  asked  him  to  come  in  to 
dinner  to-morrow  evening,  as  he  goes  away  on  Saturday." 
But  there  was  a  slight  cloud  on  Margaret's  face  as  she 
collected  her  things. 

Margaret  was  exceedingly  busy  the  next  morning, 
so  Maureen  sat  down  to  write  to  her  mother;  and  she 
had  scarcely  finished  before  Ruth  ran  into  the  room 
unannounced,  and  hugged  her. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  thing,  to  come  so  early !  "  exclaimed 
Maureen ;  "  but  of  course  I  was  expecting  you.  Aunt 
Margaret  is  unlocking  all  the  cupboards  and  presses, 
and  taking  stock  of  the  storeroom,  and  Master  and  the 
kitchen  cat  won't  leave  her.  The  kitchen  cat — her  name 
is  Jezebel,  but  we  call  her  Jeb  for  short — has  had  kittens 
during  our  absence,  and  Dickson  says  Mrs.  Jeb  has  done 
it  especially  to  spite  her,  and  that  they  must  all  be 
drownded  dead  immediate  or  she  couldn't  answer  for 
the  consequences;  and  Jeb,  whose  previous  family 
disappeared  mysteriously,  is  mewing  a  protest  in  Aunt 
Margaret's  ears.  '  Jeb  must  have  one  baby/  she  says, 
in  her  kind-hearted  way,  '  let  me  go  and  choose/  And 
when  I  left  the  harrowing  scene,  there  was  Jeb  licking 
all  her  infants  by  turns  in  preparation  for  the  inspection." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  Jeb  will  have  one/'  returned 
Ruth.  "  What  is  the  use  of  bringing  children  into  the 
world  if  an  ogre  is  to  drown  them  dead  ?  " 

"  Well,  they  are  ugly  little  things,"  remarked  Maureen, 
"  and  no  one  wants  them ;  but  I  am  all  for  fair  play  and 
humanity  even  where  kittens  are  concerned.  Tobias  will 
love  to  play  with  it.  He  is  partial  to  kittens,  and  treats 
them  with  the  familiarity  of  a  bachelor  uncle." 

Maureen  was  in  a  lively  mood,  but  all  the  time  she 
was  observing  Ruth  narrowly.  Ruth  was  not  looking 


The  Son  of  Jezebel  307 

specially  well  or  happy.  She  had  not  lost  her  worried 
expression. 

"  Well,  Ruthie,  dear,  have  you  anything  fresh  to  tell 
me?" 

Then  Ruth  coloured  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Nothing  has  happened,  except  that  all  my  things 
have  been  sent  from  Westcombe  Lodge, — books,  pictures, 
and  all  my  treasures, — that  speaks  for  itself." 

"  That  you  are  not  to  go  back  ?  " 

"  No ;  only  for  visits,  but  I  am  never  to  live  there 
again.  Aunt  Sophy  told  Romney  that  she  and  Uncle 
George  consider  me  too  great  a  responsibility.  '  It  is 
enough  to  have  one  son's  prospect  of  happiness  destroyed,' 
she  went  on ;  '  but  we  dare  not  run  any  further  risk.' 
I  don't  think  Romney  ought  to  have  repeated  Aunt 
Sophy's  words.  It  was  too  unkind  of  her  to  say  that." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  quite  understand  what  she  means, 
Ruth." 

"  Oh,  she  was  hinting  at  Kenneth.  You  know  what 
friends  we  are  and  how  we  correspond.  And  now  Percy 
has  been  insinuating  things,  and  making  out  that  I  am 
a  flirt."  And  here  Ruth  struggled  to  restrain  her  tears. 

"  What  a  shame !  but  surely  your  brother  does  not 
believe  him." 

"  I  don't  think  he  quite  knows  what  to  believe," 
replied  Ruth,  mournfully.  "  He  is  very  kind  and  con- 
siderate, but  he  sometimes  says  things  which  make  me 
uncomfortable.  Last  evening  he  said  that  he  considered 
Aunt  Sophy  and  Olivia  were  a  little  too  hard  on  me. 
That  it  was  only  natural  that  a  girl  liked  life  and  bright- 
ness and  admiration,  and  that  if  I  were  not  always  wise 
and  prudent  it  was  because  I  was  so  young.  He  spoke  in 
such  a  kind,  fatherly  voice,  and  seemed  so  sorry  for  me." 

"  That  was  nice  of  him." 

"  Yes ;  but  he  spoilt  it  later  on,  for  he  said  presently 
that  nothing  would  please  him  better  than  to  see  me 
married  to  some  good  fellow  who  knew  how  to  appreciate 
me,  and  with  whom  I  could  be  happy." 


308  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Maureen  changed  colour  as  Ruth  said  this. 

"  Well,  I  see  no  harm  in  your  brother  saying  that," 
she  returned,  hurriedly. 

"  Oh,  he  meant  it  kindly  enough ;  only,  don't  you  read 
between  the  lines?  Romney  wants  to  get  rid  of  the 
responsibility.  He  does  not  quite  know  what  he  is 
going  to  do  with  me.  He  does  not  think  Marsh  Hall 
is  a  right  sort  of  home  for  me ;  and  he  is  very  perplexed 
about  the  future.  The  fact  is,"  went  on  Ruth,  with  a 
sigh,  "  it  is  the  same  old  story.  I  am  a  white  elephant ; 
no  one  really  wants  me,  and  I  am  in  everybody's  way. 
Romney  would  be  far  happier  without  me,"  and  here 
poor  Ruth  brushed  away  a  tear.  "  Oh,  if  Romney  only 
cared  to  have  me  I  should  be  perfectly  content." 

Maureen  expressed  her  sympathy  in  her  usual  warm- 
hearted fashion,  and  then  she  counselled  patience. 

"  It  is  no  use  fretting,  Ruth,"  she  said,  very  sensibly. 
"  You  had  far  better  be  cheerful  and  make  the  best  of 
things.  If  your  brother  sees  for  himself  that  you  vare 
happy  and  not  moping,  he  may  change  his  mind  about 
Marsh  Hall."  But  it  was  evident  that  Ruth  was  not 
sanguine. 

.  "  I  will  do  my  best,"  she  returned ;  "  but  it  will  be  very 
hard  to  be  cheerful  when  I  am  so  sore  and  unhappy 
about  all  this  trouble.  I  must  get  some  occupation.  I 
shall  talk  to  Mrs.  Whitworth  and  Miss  Brydon,  for  I 
don't  intend  to  spend  half  my  time  at  Gayton  Lodge." 
And  after  this  they  talked  more  comfortably,  making 
plans  in  their  girlish  fashion. 

Ruth  brightened  up  when  Maureen  gave  her  Harold's 
message.  "  I  am  glad  he  said  that,"  she  returned,  in  a 
low  voice ;  "  that  he  understood  how  I  longed  to  be  at 
home." 

"  Oh,  Harold  always  understands,"  remarked  Mau- 
reen. "  He  does  not  always  say  much,  but  he  is 
wonderfully  observant,  and  he  very  seldom  makes 
mistakes." 

But  just  as  the  conversation  had  reached  this  interest- 


The  Son  of  Jezebel  309 

ing  point  Margaret  returned,  looking  flushed  and  a  little 
excited. 

"  It  has  been  a  harassing  business,"  she  said  rather 
solemnly,  after  she  had  greeted  Ruth ;  "  but  if  there  is 
a  disagreeable  duty  to  perform,  it  is  better  to  do  it  at 
once." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  the  kittens  are  drownded  dead  ?  " 
asked  Maureen,  in  rather  a  horrified  tone. 

"  All  but  the  little  black  one  with  the  white  patch 
under  his  chin.  We  got  Jeb  into  the  larder  and  feasted 
her  royally,  while  old  Giles  did  the  melancholy  work. 
I  don't  think  Jeb  is  particularly  unhappy,  Maureen.  She 
was  washing  her  black  infant  with  great  care  when  I 
left.  I  think  I  shall  call  the  newcomer  Beelzebub,  it 
seems  a  peculiarly  appropriate  name  for  the  son  of 
Jezebel."  And  Margaret  sat  down  with  a  fatigued  and 
virtuous  air,  as  though  she  had  earned  her  rest.  Then 
Ruth,  glancing  at  the  tiny  watch  at  her  wrist,  declared 
that  it  was  late  and  that  she  must  hurry  home. 


XXXIV 

"MY   LADY   OF   DREAMS" 

From  this  close  inspection  of  pure  hearts  we  have  learned 
to  think  nobly  of  human  nature  and  hopefully  of  the  Providence 
of  God. — ROBERTSON. 

Your  gentleness  shall  force  more  than  your  force  move  us 
to  gentleness. — SHAKESPEARE. 

MARGARET  was  too  much  absorbed  with  what  she 
called  the  Cataline  conspiracy  to  talk  over  Ruth's  affairs ; 
but  she  had  greeted  her  very  kindly,  and  had  invited 
her  to  spend  a  long  day  at  the  Garden  House;  so  Ruth 
had  gladly  consented  to  fix  Monday.  As  soon  as  luncheon 
was  over  Margaret  and  Maureen  set  off  for  the  Work- 
house, attended  by  Master,  who  seemed  decidedly 
unwilling  to  trust  his  mistress  out  of  his  sight. 

"  Master  is  never  quite  sure  of  me  for  about  a  week 
after  my  return,"  observed  Margaret.  "  He  will  be 
satisfied  when  he  sees  me  with  his  own  eyes  go  into  the 
Workhouse,  and  will  sit  on  the  doorstep  contentedly, 
wagging  his  tail  affably  when  a  pauper  passes.  Cheer 
up,  sonny,  we  will  have  tea  at  the  Rectory !  There,  you 
see  Maureen,  he  understands  me,"  as  Master  gave  a  short 
bark  of  satisfaction.  "  He  loves  going  to  the  Rectory, 
because  Mrs.  Whitworth  always  gives  him  sponge-cakes." 

They  spent  their  afternoon  very  pleasantly,  and  only 
returned  in  time  to  dress  for  dinner.  It  was  rather  a 
chilly  November  evening,  and  Margaret's  dark-red 
velveteen  looked  very  appropriate. 

"  What  a  wonderfully  graceful  woman  Aunt  Maggie 
is,"  thought  Maureen  more  than  once  that  evening. 
"  There  is  something  so  harmonious  about  her."  And 
strange  to  say  the  same  thought  occurred  to  Mr. 
Torrance. 

310 


"My  Lady  of  Dreams"  311 

"  You  are  looking  remarkably  well  to-night, 
Margaret !  "  he  said,  when  Maureen  had  gone  out  of  the 
room  to  fetch  something.  "  I  do  not  think  that  I  ever 
saw  you  look  better." 

"  I  wish  I  could  return  the  compliment,"  in  rather  a 
reproachful  tone.  "  You  have  not  kept  your  promise 
to  me,  Henry,  to  take  care  of  yourself.  Do  you  know, 
even  Maureen  thinks  you  look  thin  and  overworked,  and 
she  is  right." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  take  it  easily  at  Oxford,"  he  replied 
lightly;  for  he  was  going  to  spend  a  week  with  an  old 
friend,  the  Provost  of  Queen's.  "  You  need  not  abuse 
me  for  sticking  to  my  work.  I  can  tell  you  I  found  it 
precious  dull  with  the  Rectory  and  the  Garden  House 
and  Marsh  Hall  all  empty ;  but  Tobias  and  I  had  to  make 
the  best  of  it.  Well,  you  are  back  now ;  and  though  my 
lady  does  not  sit  in  her  cane-bottomed  chair,  eh, 
Margaret,  it  is  good  to  look  at  her  in  her  old  corner." 
And  Henry  Torrance's  glance  was  so  full  of  frank 
admiration  and  affection  that  Margaret's  colour  deepened 
a  little,  but  she  looked  at  him  with  her  usual  quiet 
friendliness. 

"  You  have  missed  your  old  friend,  and  I  cannot 
say  that  I  am  altogether  sorry  to  hear  it,  but  you  will 
see  that  I  have  not  forgotten  you,"  and  Margaret  pro- 
duced some  fine  handkerchiefs  with  his  initials  beautifully 
embroidered.  Henry  Torrance  kept  the  kind  hand  in  his 
as  he  thanked  her. 

"  You  are  too  good  to  me,  my  dear.  How  can  I  help 
missing  you  when  you  make  yourself  so  necessary  to  me  ? 
I  shall  bring  you  something  from  Oxford.  What  shall 

it  be  ?  a  picture,  books,  some  knicknacks,  or ?  "  but 

Margaret  shook  her  head. 

"  Anything  that  you  like  to  choose  for  me,"  she 
returned  with  a  smile,  and  there  was  something  almost 
childlike  in  its  open-hearted  simplicity.  "  But  I  love  to 
be  surprised,  and  not  to  know  beforehand."  Then  Mr. 
Torrance  laughed,  and  told  Maureen  who  had  just  re- 


312  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

entered  that  she  was  an  older  woman  than  her  aunt.  And 
Maureen  quite  agreed  to  this. 

"Aunt  Margaret  is  still  so  very  young  that  she 
often  surprises  me,  but  all  the  same  it  is  very  nice," 
patting  Margaret's  arm  affectionately. 

Long  afterwards  Maureen  recalled  that  evening  and 
thought  how  pleasant  it  had  been.  She  had  never  liked 
Mr.  Torrance  so  much ;  or  been  so  sorry  for  him.  When 
Margaret  played  to  them  he  seemed  to  listen  in  a  sort  of 
melancholy  dream,  not  wholly  painful,  from  which  he 
roused  with  difficulty.  And  by  and  by,  as  she  played  on, 
he  rose  from  his  chair  and  paced  softly  up  and  down  the 
room.  Presently  he  checked  her. 

"  That  will  do,"  he  said,  rather  abruptly.  "  As  usual 
you  are  tiring  yourself  in  trying  to  give  other  people 
pleasure." 

"  But  I  love  to  play;  you  know  it,  Henry,"  and  there 
was  a  dream,  too,  in  Margaret's  hazel  eyes. 

"  So  you  say.  But  there  are  no  evil  spirits  to  exorcise 
to-night.  They  dare  not  cross  your  threshold,  Margaret. 
Now,  I  must  go;  and  as  I  leave  for  town  rather  early 
in  the  afternoon  I  shall  not  see  you  again.  Good-bye,  and 
thank  you."  Then  Margaret  accompanied  him  to  the 
door,  and  there  were  a  few  more  parting  words.  "  Good- 
night, my  Lady  of  Dreams,"  he  said,  taking  her  two 
hands.  "  Do  you  know  Esther  seemed  very  near  me 
to-night.  As  you  played  I  had  a  fancy  that  she  glided 
between  us,  holding  out  her  hand  to  each.  Do  you 
remember  that  pretty  way  she  had  ?  Oh,  it  was  a  fancy, 
of  course.  I  was  not  asleep,  but  it  was  your  playing, 
my  dear.  There,  God  bless  you !  "  And  as  he  walked 
down  the  road  there  was  a  strangely  peaceful  feeling  in 
his  heart,  as  though  he  saw  vaguely  the  beginnings  of  a 
larger  and  better  life. 

The  following  afternoon  Margaret  was  busy  in  her 
district.  She  had  a  great  deal  to  do,  and  strictly 
charged  Maureen  not  to  wait  tea  for  her. 

"  If  I  find  myself  near  the  Mill  House  about  half-past 


"  My  Lady  of  Dreams  "  313 

four  Mrs.  Armytage  will  give  me  a  cup  of  tea,  and  I  want 
to  get  through  all  my  work  before  I  make  tracks  for 
home." 

"  But  it  is  such  a  horrid  afternoon,"  objected  Maureen. 
"  The  damp  seems  to  creep  into  one's  bones.  There 
is  quite  a  mist  over  the  meadows.  I  think  you  ought  to 
stay  at  home  and  keep  me  company,  Aunt  Peg." 

"  What  airs  spoilt  children  give  themselves !  "  returned 
Margaret,  in  a  laughing  voice.  "  Did  any  one  hear  the 
like  of  that.  No,  my  dear  young  friend,  I  prefer  to 
do  my  '  dooty/  as  old  Giles  says.  Keep  up  a  good 
fire,  and  toast  yourself  into  a  nice  frame  of  mind."  And 
Margaret  tied  a  grey  veil  over  her  hat  with  a  determined 
expression.  "  Ta-ta,  little  woman,  until  our  next 
merry  meeting  " ;  but  as  Margaret  walked  briskly  past 
the  window  a  swirl  of  dead  leaves  attended  her,  and  the 
dank  sea-fog  followed  in  her  wake. 

Maureen  shivered  as  she  went  back  to  her  cosy  corner. 
It  was  almost  too  dark  to  read,  and  to  sit  alone  in  the 
firelight  was  rather  a  dreary  thing  to  do,  and  any  attempt 
at  meditation  would  certainly  result  in  drowsiness.  If 
only  Ruth  could  be  with  her,  but  she  was  probably  keep- 
ing her  brother  company  in  the  library.  Here  the  tooting 
of  a  motor  attracted  her  attention,  but  a  hasty  glance 
assured  her  that  it  was  Mr.  Chaytor,  and  that  no  one  was 
with  him. 

"  He  has  come  to  see  Aunt  Margaret,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "  I  wonder  what  I  ought  to  do.  Rhoda  will 
tell  him  she  is  out,  and  then  he  will  not  like  to  come 
in.  Ought  I  go  to  out  and  speak  to  him  ?  "  Maureen 
was  in  a  fever  of  suppressed  anxiety  and  shyness.  She 
could  not  endure  the  thought  of  his  leaving  the  house, 
and  yet  the  idea  of  entertaining  him  all  by  herself  seemed 
extremely  formidable.  "  Oh,  I  wish  I  knew  what  Aunt 
Margaret  would  have  me  do,"  she  thought,  helplessly. 
But  the  next  moment  the  matter  was  settled  for  her. 
Rhoda  opened  the  door,  and  Mr.  Chaytor  limped  in,  and 
Maureen  hurried  across  the  room  to  meet  him. 


314  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Aunt  Margaret  is  out.  She  has  gone  to  her  district. 
Did  Rhoda  tell  you  that?  But  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
you."  This  was  an  afterthought,  added  in  gratitude  foe 
the  very  pleasant  look  that  Mr.  Chaytor  gave  her. 
Perhaps  Maureen's  hot  cheeks  and  evident  nervousness 
were  not  lost  on  him. 

"  Yes,  the  maid  told  me.  But  I  hoped  you  would 
allow  me  to  wait  for  your  aunt's  return — that  is,  if  you 
are  not  busy,  and  will  not  find  me  in  the  way." 

"  Oh  dear,  no,"  returned  Maureen,  frankly.  "  I  was 
just  longing  for  a  visitor  to  come;  somehow  I  was  not 
in  the  mood  for  my  own  society.  I  was  thinking  of 
Ruth,  and  then  I  heard  the  motor." 

"  Shall  I  go  back  and  fetch  her  ?  Oh,  I  forgot,  she 
has  a  little  cold,  and  it  would  not  be  prudent  for  her 
to  come  out  in  this  fog.  I  am  afraid  you  must  put  up 
with  my  company." 

"  Oh,  what  nonsense !  Of  course  I  am  very  pleased." 
But  Maureen  had  no  idea  that  the  pleasure  was 
sufficiently  evident  to  the  Viking's  keen  blue  eyes.  "  I 
shall  ring  for  tea.  Aunt  Margaret  told  me  not  to  wait; 
she  likes  to  be  quite  free  on  her  district  afternoons." 

"  But  it  is  too  early  for  tea,  my  dear  Miss  Brydon. 
Do  you  know  it  is  not  half-past  three  yet  ?  Why  should 
we  not  sit  down  by  this  delightful  fire  and  have  a  little 
talk?  I  have  not  known  you  seven  years — barely  seven 
months — but  if  you  will  allow  me  to  adjust  that  log  " — 
taking  up  the  poker,  while  Maureen,  struggling  to  appear 
dignified  and  at  her  ease,  seated  herself  in  Margaret's 
favourite  chair  opposite  him.  Of  course  it  was  absurd 
to  be  so  shy  and  flurried — indeed  it  was  hardly  ladylike. 
Maureen  was  taking  herself  severely  in  hand  now.  This 
was  not  the  first  time  she  had  found  herself  alone  with  the 
Viking,  and  really  he  was  not  so  formidable  after  all  when 
one  knew  him.  How  often  Aunt  Margaret  had  said  to 
her  that  she  got  on  better  with  Mr.  Chaytor  than  with 
most  people.  At  this  moment,  Mr.  Chaytor  flashed  a 
sudden  look  at  her. 


"  My  Lady  of  Dreams  "  315 

"  Well,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  have  you  got  over  your 
disappointment  about  Ruth  ?  "  But  his  manner  was  a 
little  teasing. 

"  I  was  not  in  the  last  disappointed,"  she  returned, 
quickly.  "  Besides,  I  saw  her  yesterday." 

"  Young  ladies  are  not  always  reasonable  in  their 
friendships.  To  judge  by  appearances,  Ruth  seems  to 
find  an  absence  of  twenty-four  hours  from  the  Garden 
House  quite  long  enough.  We  were  boring  each  other 
dreadfully  before  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  out.  Now 
you  look  disapproving,  Miss  Brydon.  I  suppose  you 
will  tell  me  next  that  Ruth  never  bores  you." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  in  an  indignant  tone.  "  Ruth 
is  the  dearest  little  companion  possible." 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully,  as  though  something 
puzzled  him. 

"  I  knew  you  would  say  that,  and  yet  you  are  not 
in  the  least  alike." 

"  And  you  think  that  matters  ?  " 

"  Not  in  your  case  apparently ;  but  in  ours  there  are 
temperamental  difficulties.  Our  natures,  our  tastes  are 
utterly  dissimilar.  Very  likely  I  am  older  than  my  age; 
but  Ruth  always  seems  so  young  to  me — almost  a  child, 
as  though  she  were  hardly  grown  up." 

"  You  are  quite  wrong,"  returned  Maureen.  She 
had  forgotten  her  nervousness,  and  was  speaking  with 
her  usual  animation.  "  Ruth  is  no  child.  She  thinks  far 
more  deeply  than  you  suppose;  she  has  such  a  beautiful 
nature ;  she  is  so  good  and  gentle  and  self-sacrificing, 
and  she  is  so  devoted  to  you." 

He  seemed  a  little  touched  by  this,  though  he 
remained  silent.  Probably  he  wanted  her  to  say  more. 

"  Ruth's  great  trouble  is  that  you  do  not  need  her, 
that  she  feels  herself  in  your  way.  She  does  so  long 
to  be  your  companion  and  to  brighten  your  home.  I 
think  if  you  could  only  realise  this  " ;  but  he  shook  his 
head. 

"  I  quite  understand  what  you  mean,  but  somehow 


316  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

the  thing  does  not  work.  I  am  very  fond  of  Ruth — 
she  is  a  dear  child,  and  I  would  do  all  in  my  power  to 
make  her  happy — but  I  shall  never  think  Marsh  Hall  is 
the  right  home  for  her.  If  I  keep  her  with  me  I  shall 
have  to  change  my  manner  of  life,  and  I  confess  " — and 
here  he  frowned  slightly — "  that  the  prospect  does  not 
please  me." 

"  I  do  not  think  Ruth  would  like  that,"  she  began, 
"  or  that  it  would  be  necessary."  But  he  checked  her 
with  a  gesture. 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  say  that  it  will  be  absolutely  neces- 
sary. If  I  am  to  enjoy  any  sort  of  freedom,  I  shall 
have  to  engage  some  nice  motherly  woman  to  chaperon 
Ruth.  I  mean  to  consult  Miss  Brydon  on  the  subject. 
I  am  quite  sure  that  she  will  agree  with  me  that  it  is 
the  only  thing  to  do." 

Maureen  looked  at  him  dubiously.  He  was  evidently 
in  earnest.  She  wondered  if  he  were  right. 

"  I  suppose  it  would  be  easier  for  you  to  get  away," 
she  observed. 

"  Oh,  I  was  not  thinking  of  myself  " — rather  im- 
patiently. "  You  must  not  credit  me  with  such  selfish- 
ness. I  want  to  do  the  best  I  can  for  Ruth.  Westcombe 
Lodge  is  closed  to  her,  and  for  the  present  she  must 
remain  with  me.  If  I  can  find  some  lady  of  mature 
age  who  would  act  as  her  chaperon,  Ruth  would  be  able 
to  see  her  friends  and  entertain  them  properly,  and  I 
should  not  find  my  responsibility  so  heavy."  And 
Maureen,  much  as  she  disliked  the  idea  for  Ruth's  sake, 
was  obliged  to  admit  to  herself  that  it  was  not  a  bad 
plan. 

"  I  think  Aunt  Margaret  will  be  able  to  help  you," 
she  returned.  "  She  always  sees  things  so  clearly.  I 
expect  it  will  not  be  easy  to  find  the  sort  of  person  you 
want." 

"  No,  I  daresay  not,"  he  returned,  with  a  sigh.  And 
then  Rhoda  brought  in  the  tea-tray  and  a  plate  of  freshly- 
baked  scones,  and  Maureen  made  the  tea. 


"My  Lady  of  Dreams"  317 

Mr.  Chaytor  sat  in  his  warm  corner  and  watched  the 
active  girlish  figure  moving  so  busily  about  the  room. 
Maureen  was  so  engrossed  with  hospitable  cares  that 
she  forgot  her  previous  shyness.  When  she  placed  the 
little  table  beside  him,  and  handed  him  his  tea,  he  red- 
dened a  little  at  the  thought  that  his  infirmity  made  it 
necessary  for  her  to  wait  on  him. 

"  Do  let  me  do  it,"  she  half-whispered ;  "  it  is  such 
a  pleasure."  Maureen's  good  heart  prompted  her  to  say 
this,  but  the  words  were  absolutely  true.  Perhaps  Mr. 
Chaytor  knew  it,  for  his  "  thank  you "  was  said  very 
quietly.  The  next  moment  he  asked  after  Harold. 

"  I  hope  he  is  coming  down  for  a  week-end  soon," 
he  observed. 

"  I  think  not ;  no,  I  am  sure  he  will  not  come  just 
yet."  Maureen  spoke  rather  decidedly. 

"  Oh,  that's  nonsense,"  he  returned.  "  Brydon  told 
me  that  his  aunt  had  given  him  a  general  invitation  to 
run  down  for  the  week-end  whenever  he  felt  inclined." 

"  I  don't  think  Harold  can  get  away  just  now,  Mr. 
Chaytor."  Maureen's  manner  was  so  grave  and  embar- 
rassed that  he  looked  at  her  rather  suspiciously. 

"  Why  not  ?  I  don't  believe  they  are  so  very  busy ; 
at  least  your  brother's  last  letter  did  not  say  so.  Do 
you  know,  I  have  a  famous  idea.  I  am  going  to  motor 
up  to  town  on  Friday,  and  I  shall  probably  stay  the  night. 
I  will  drop  a  line  to  Brydon  and  ask  him  to  come  back 
with  me  on  Saturday,  and  if  your  aunt's  spare  room  is 
engaged  I  can  put  him  up,  and  he  can  go  back  by  the 
early  train  on  Monday." 

"  It  sounds  very  tempting,"  returned  Maureen,  trying 
to  smile,  "  but  I  don't  believe  Harold  will  come  " ;  and 
Maureen,  who  never  could  conceal  her  feelings,  seemed 
so  constrained  and  uneasy  that  Mr.  Chaytor  felt  con- 
vinced in  his  own  mind  that  there  was  more  than  met 
the  eye,  but  he  was  not  to  be  so  easily  baffled. 

"  You  are  in  a  pessimistic  mood  this  afternoon,  Miss 
Brydon.  I  mean  to  write  to  him  all  the  same."  But 


318  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Maureen  had  no  answer  ready.  She  felt  convinced  that 
Harold  would  refuse  to  be  tempted,  but  she  thought  it 
best  to  say  no  more;  and  Mr.  Chaytor,  who  was  a  little 
puzzled  by  her  unusual  reserve,  changed  the  subject  by 
asking  her  if  her  aunt  was  not  unusually  late.  "  It  is 
nearly  half-past  five,"  he  observed. 

"  Is  it  ?  "  returned  Maureen,  innocently.  "  The  time 
must  have  passed  rather  quickly,  for  I  had  no  idea  it 
was  five.  I  expect  Aunt  Margaret  is  having  tea  at  the 
Mill  House,  and  as  they  are  seldom  punctual,  she  will 
not  be  back  just  yet." 

"  Then  in  that  case  I  had  better  not  wait,"  he  re- 
turned. "  Tell  Miss  Brydon  that  I  will  come  and  talk 
to  her  another  afternoon." 

Maureen  nodded  with  one  of  her  bright  smiles,  but 
the  next  moment  there  was  a  slight  contretemps.  Mr. 
Chaytor  had  risen  with  some  difficulty,  and  his  sudden 
lurch  forward  made  Maureen  think  Aunt  Margaret's 
favourite  Worcester  china  was  in  jeopardy.  "  Oh,  do 
let  me  help  you !  "  she  said,  involuntarily,  and  her  hand 
gripped  his  arm.  For  an  instant  there  was  a  flash  of 
blue  fire  from  the  Viking's  eyes,  and  he  drew  himself 
up  a  little  haughtily.  But  Maureen's  perfect  uncon- 
sciousness disarmed  him.  He  glanced  at  her  anxious 
face  and  at  the  little  brown  ringless  hand  on  his  wrist; 
then  with  unusual  docility  he  suffered  her  to  lead  him  to 
the  door.  If  he  thanked  her  it  was  silently,  for  he  merely 
said  good-night.  But  as  Maureen  went  back  to  the 
pleasant  firelight  she  had  no  idea  that  she  had  done 
anything  unusual  by  that  kind,  womanly  action. 


XXXV 

"A  LAME   DOG   AND  A  STILE" 

But  as  we  meet  and  touch  each  day 
The   many  travellers   on  our  way, 
Let  every   such   brief  contact  be 
A  glorious,   helpful   ministry! 
The  contact  of  the  soil  and  seed — 
Each  giving  to  the  other's  need, 
Each  helping  on  the  other's  best, 
And  blessing  each  as  well  as  blest. 

S.  COOLIDGE. 

MR.  CHAYTOR  did  not  pay  his  proposed  visit  to  Mar- 
garet for  some  days.  Maureen,  who  had  promised  to  go 
to  the  Rectory  one  afternoon  to  help  Mrs.  Whitworth 
with  some  work  she  was  finishing  for  a  bazaar,  did  not 
return  until  he  had  left  the  house.  She  had  walked  part 
of  the  way  back  with  Ruth,  who  had  also  been  invited. 

"  How  late  you  are,  Maureen !  "  exclaimed  Margaret, 
as  the  girl  entered  the  room.  The  lamps  were  unlighted, 
and  only  the  red  glow  of  the  firelight  shone  on  Margaret's 
face  as  she  lay  back  in  her  easy-chair,  meditating  in  the 
twilight.  "  I  have  had  a  visitor  all  the  afternoon,  so  I 
have  not  been  dull ;  he  only  left  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
ago." 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  Mr.  Chaytor,"  returned  Mau- 
reen quietly,  as  she  drew  off  her  gloves  and  seated  herself 
on  the  fender-stool.  "  It  is  horribly  cold  and  damp  out- 
side, and  so  dark  that  Ruth  was  afraid  to  go  back  alone, 
so  I  walked  nearly  all  the  way  with  her."  Maureen  spoke 
in  her  usual  cheerful  manner,  but  inwardly  she  was 
saying  to  herself,  but  for  Ruth's  timidity  she  would  not 
have  missed  him. 

"  What  a  pity  you  did  not  bring  Ruth  back  with  you, 
and  she  could  have  gone  home  in  the  motor ;  but  it  cannot 
be  helped  now. 

319 


320  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Well,  Maureen,  we  had  a  nice  talk.  Mr.  Chaytor 
was  very  agreeable  and  sensible,  and  I  found  him  quite 
reasonable.  I  think  all  this  worry  and  responsibility 
about  Ruth  has  been  rather  good  for  him  that  otherwise. 
Who  was  the  old  divine  who  said  that  difficulties  properly 
met  were  crutches  or  chariots,  or  some  sort  of  locomotive, 
to  help  us  on  the  upward  way?  Dear  me,  I  am  afraid 
I  am  a  little  mixed,  Anno  Domin-e,  my  dear,"  and 
Margaret  tapped  her  forehead. 

"  I  don't  think  you  have  got  it  quite  right,  Aunt 
Maggie.  I  only  remember  Faber  said,  '  Difficulties  are 
the  stones  out  of  which  all  God's  houses  are  built.'  " 

"  Well,  that  is  beautiful,  and  there  is  plenty  of  com- 
fort to  be  found  in  that.  No  one  can  deny  that  the  poor 
man  is  in  rather  an  awkward  position.  He  wants  to  be 
free  to  lead  the  life  which  he  thinks  suits  him  best,  and 
now  Ruth  is  on  his  hands,  and  he  feels  his  first  duty  is 
to  her.  I  think  his  idea  of  finding  some  nice,  ladylike 
woman  who  will  chaperon  the  girl,  and  be  pleasant  and 
companionable,  will  solve  the  problem  effectually.  Why 
are  you  shaking  your  head,  Maureen  ?  " 

"  Because  I  know  how  Ruth  will  hate  it,  and  how  it 
will  spoil  her  home  life.  Just  think,  Aunt  Maggie, 
always  to  have  a  third  person  between  her  and  her  brother 
— no  privacy,  no  confidential  intercourse — and  she  does 
so  long  to  be  his  companion  and  do  things  for  him." 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  returned  Margaret,  thought- 
fully. "  Indeed  I  said  much  the  same  to  Mr.  Chaytor, 
but  I  am  afraid  it  is  the  only  possible  solution  to  the 
difficulty.  One  of  them  will  have  to  make  a  sacrifice. 
If  Mr.  Chaytor  is  to  have  any  freedom  or  peace  of  mind 
he  must  leave  Ruth  in  safe  hands." 

"  I  was  afraid  you  would  take  his  part,"  sighed 
Maureen. 

"  My  dear  child,  when  Mr.  Chaytor  is  so  obviously 
in  the  right,  I  ought  surely  to  side  with  him.  Ruth  is 
a  charming  little  person,  but  her  ideas  are  extremely 
limited,  and  she  is  also  impracticable.  She  does  not  in 


"  A  Lame  Dog  and  a  Stile  "          321 

the  least  understand  the  Viking  nature,  and  I  doubt  if 
she  ever  will." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  right,  Aunt  Maggie,  but  it  does 
seem  such  a  grievous  pity." 

"  Ah,  there  I  agree  with  you.  I  wish  with  all  my 
heart  that  there  were  not  all  these  temperamental  diffi- 
culties ;  but  we  must  take  things  as  we  find  them.  Now, 
as  Mr.  Chaytor  explained  to  me,  if  he  consents  to  let 
Ruth  stay  at  Marsh  Hall,  and  to  make  it  her  home,  she 
must  submit  to  this  condition,  and  I  intend  to  -tell  her 
so  very  plainly ;  in  fact,  I  have  promised  him  that  I  would 
do  so.  The  advantage  of  having  a  chaperon  will  be  this 
— Ruth  will  be  able  to  see  her  friends  as  often  as  she 
likes,  and  to  entertain  them  without  reference  to  him. 
He  can  go  away  for  weeks  at  a  time  without  any  anxiety 
on  her  behalf.  His  only  trouble  is  that  the  morning-room 
is  so  small,  and  that  there  is  no  drawing-room.  I  think 
he  has  an  idea  of  building  some  new  rooms.  I  believe 
it  will  be  possible  to  do  that,  but  I  advised  him  to  decide 
nothing  in  a  hurry.  I  reminded  him  that  it  was  very 
unlikely  that  Ruth  would  be  long  on  his  hands — a 
winsome  little  creature  like  that." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  Aunt  Maggie.  I  am  sure  Ruth 
will  not  marry  any  one  with  whom  she  is  not  deeply  in 
love." 

"  I  hope  not,  indeed.  Well,  we  settled  all  that,  and 
Mrs.  Whitworth,  Mrs.  George  Chaytor,  and  I  are  all  to 
do  our  best  to  find  this  miracle  of  chaperons.  Let  me 
<;ee " — here  Margaret  ticked  off  particulars  on  her 
ringers — "  she  must  be  forty  at  least,  a  widow  without 
encumbrance;  pleasing  manners,  agreeable  society,  good- 
tempered,  and,  if  possible,  accomplished;  motherly  dis- 
position, fond  of  young  people,  and  able  to  adapt  herself 
to  them ;  good  principles  strictly  necessary ;  poverty  no 
obstacle.  There,  I  think  I  have  got  it  all  right." 

"  I  wish  you  and  Mrs.  Whitworth  joy  of  your  search 
for  '  the  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned,' "  observed 
Maureen,  rather  ironically. 


322  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  I  am  afraid  we  have  not  an  easy  task  before  us," 
replied  Margaret  with  a  rueful  smile.  "  But  we  must 
do  our  best  for  the  poor  Viking.  By  the  bye,  he  sent 
you  a  message,  Maureen.  He  wrote  to  Harold,  offering 
to  motor  him  down  here  on  Saturday,  but  it  seems  he 
cannot  get  away  just  now." 

"  So  I  told  Mr.  Chaytor." 

"  Well,  it  seems  rather  odd,  for  your  father  told  me 
in  his  last  letter  that  business  was  slack  just  now ;  so 
Harold  could  easily  have  come  for  the  week-end." 

As  Maureen  did  not  know  what  to  say  in  reply  to 
this,  she  remained  silent;  but  she  looked  rather  em- 
barrassed. Margaret  gave  her  a  quick  glance,  but  she 
did  not  pursue  the  subject. 

"  Young  men  know  their  own  business,"  she  said, 
cheerfully.  "  By  the  bye,  Maureen,  Mr.  Chaytor  tells 
me  that  Mr.  Torrance  is  having  such  a  good  time  at 
Oxford  that  he  does  not  mean  to  leave  until  Monday; 
and  as  he  has  some  business  in  town  for  Tuesday,  he 
will  probably  not  return  until  Wednesday  evening.  I 
am  so  glad  he  is  going  to  take  a  few  more  days." 

"  So  am  I ;  he  did  look  so  fagged  and  tired." 

"  Mr.  Chaytor  is  going  to  wire  to  him  that  he  will 
take  him  back  in  the  motor,  as  Harold  has  not  accepted 
his  invitation.  He  is  going  up  on  Saturday,  and  will 
put  up  at  the  Great  Western ;  and  Mr.  Torrance  will  join 
him  there  on  Monday.  I  think  that  will  be  rather  a  nice 
arrangement  for  both  of  them.  I  told  him  that  Ruth 
could  come  to  us,  if  he  liked.  He  seemed  quite  sorry  to 
refuse  this;  but  he  said  Mrs.  Whitworth  had  invited 
her  for  the  four  days." 

"  Oh  dear,  how  tiresome !  "  in  a  vexed  voice.  "  Ruth 
would  so  much  rather  have  come  to  us,  and  it  would 
have  been  so  delightful  to  have  her." 

"  Never  mind ;  we  shall  have  plenty  of  opportunities 
of  asking  her  later  on;  so  don't  grumble.  Mrs.  Whit- 
worth  is  sure  to  ask  you  one  evening,  and  very  likely 
Ruth  will  come  to  us  on  Sunday  afternoon.  Now,  I 


"  A  Lame  Dog  and  a  Stile  "          323 

really  must  rouse  myself  and  go  upstairs;  but  this  firelit 
twilight  is  so  beguiling." 

Margaret  had  given  Maureen  the  substance  of  her 
long  conversation  with  Mr.  Chaytor;  but  there  was  one 
portion  which  she  kept  to  herself. 

Romney  Chaytor  had  never  been  so  friendly  and  con- 
fidential as  he  had  been  that  afternoon,  and  she  had  been 
much  struck  with  his  good  sense,  kind  heart,  and  his 
strong  self-repression. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  a  coward,"  he  said  to  her. 
"  I  have  made  too  much  of  my  limitations,  and  have 
allowed  my  lameness  and  infirmities  to  take  too  strong  a 
hold  of  me.  There  is  no  absolute  need  for  me  to  lead 
the  life  of  a  hermit.  It  is  sheer  selfishness  on  my  part." 

"  I  think  you  are  beginning  to  come  out  of  your  shell 
a  little,"  returned  Margaret,  smiling  at  him.  "  Henry 
Torrance  said  so  the  other  day.  I  suppose,"  thought- 
fully, "  we  ought  not  to  shut  ourselves  up  from  our 
fellow-creatures,  however  heavily  we  may  be  burdened. 
We  have  so  many  opportunities  of  doing  good." 

"  That  is  true,"  he  returned,  briefly.  Then  Margaret, 
emboldened  by  his  confidence,  determined  to  strike  while 
the  iron  was  hot.  But  she  wondered  afterwards  at  her 
own  audacity. 

"  I  think  if  you  knew  how  welcome  you  are  to  your 
friends,  you  would  not  deprive  them  of  the  pleasure  of 
your  company.  Now,  I  wonder  if  you  will  forgive  me 
for  making  an  odd  suggestion.  But  I  am  an  extremely 
unconventional  woman.  This  chaperon  business  is  likely 
to  be  a  grave  affair;  the  right  person  will  not  easily  be 
found.  Has  it  never  struck  you,  Mr.  Chaytor,  how  much 
happier  Ruth  would  be  with  a  real  sister  ?  I  mean — oh ! 
you  know  what  I  mean."  And  Margaret  had  the  grace 
to  blush  for  her  impertinence.  She  did  not  easily  forget 
his  start. 

"  You  cannot  surely  mean  that  I  should  marry ;  that 
any  one  would  be  likely  to  care  for  such  an  awkward 
hulk,  my  dear  Miss  Brydon  ?  "  But  Margaret  had  gone 


324  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

too  far,  and   she  could  not  take  her  words  back;  his 
pained,  wistful  expression  touched  her  heart. 

"  I  don't  believe  any  woman  has  ever  said  a  kind  word 
to  him  since  his  mother  died,"  she  said  to  Anna  after- 
wards. "  Oh,  I  am  not  thinking  of  Ruth ;  she  is  only 
a  child  to  him.  I  mean  he  has  never  had  a  woman's 
sympathy.  I  felt  so  sorry  for  him  at  that  moment  that 
the  tears  came  into  my  eyes ;  and  he  saw  them. 

'  It  is  your  goodness  of  heart,'  he  said,  in  an  odd, 
choked  voice.  '  But  I  do  not  think  you  really  meant 
that/ 

" '  But  I  do ;  I  do  mean  it,'  I  returned,  quite  vehe- 
mently. '  Do  you  think  any  woman  worth  the  name 
would  let  that  be  an  obstacle?  Mr.  Chaytor,  you  are 
simply  morbid ;  the  difficulty  is  in  your  imagination. 
Ask  Henry  Torrance  if  I  am  not  speaking  the  truth ;  ask 
Mr.  Whitworth — any  one  you  like,  and  they  will  tell 
you  as  I  do,  that  it  is  your  own  fault  if  you  are  lonely.' ': 

"  It  was  true,  no  doubt,"  replied  Anna ;  "  but,  old 
married  woman  as  I  am,  I  could  not  have  spoken  to 
him  in  that  way." 

"  Perhaps  not,  with  all  your  daughters.  But  you  see 
I  had  forgotten  Maureen's  existence,  and  I  was  only 
thinking  of  the  poor  fellow  himself.  When  I  see  any  one 
unhappy,  or  in  the  Slough  of  Despond,  I  must  try  and 
give  him  or  her  a  helping  hand;  and  when  I  saw  that 
hurt  look  in  his  eyes,  and  knew  how  proud  and  sore  he 
felt,  I  could  not  have  kept  silence,  if  it  cost  me  ever  so 
much  to  speak." 

"  No ;  you  are  a  noble  woman,  Margaret,  and  a  brave 
one,  too."  But  Margaret  gently  waived  this  aside.  But 
she  had  no  idea  of  the  gratitude  that  filled  Romney 
Chaytor's  heart  as  he  took  leave  of  her  that  evening. 

"You  have  been  very  good  to  me,  and  I  thank  you 
with  all  my  heart,"  he  said,  as  he  took  her  hand.  And 
one  of  Margaret's  beautiful  smiles  answered  him. 

"  Will  you  be  good  to  yourself?  "  she  said,  very  softly. 
But  to  this  there  was  no  reply. 


"  A  Lame  Dog  and  a  Stile  "          325 

Margaret  was  full  of  plans  that  evening.  She  was 
not  one  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  her  feet.  She  would 
walk  over  to  Marsh  Hall  the  next  morning  and  have  a 
long  talk  with  Ruth,  and  in  the  afternoon  she  would 
consult  Mrs.  Whitworth  as  to  the  best  way  of  obtaining 
the  required  chaperon.  "  Perhaps  I  shall  have  to  go  up 
to  town,  and  in  that  case  your  mother  would  help  me, 
Maureen,"  she  went  on.  "  A  personal  interview  and 
references  would  be  absolutely  necessary,  and  Mr. 
Chaytor  could  see  any  one  we  considered  eligible  for  the 
post." 

"  Should  you  call  on  Mrs.  George  Chaytor,  Aunt 
Maggie  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  hardly  know.  I  fancy  from  Mr.  Chay tor's 
manner  that  he  relies  more  on  my  opinion.  He  thinks 
his  aunt  a  very  kind,  warm-hearted  woman,  but  he  owned 
that  she  and  the  girls  were  rather  worldly-minded,  and 
he  evidently  distrusts  their  choice.  But  my  first  task 
will  be  to  bring  Ruth  to  reason." 

Margaret  carried  out  her  programme,  and  returned 
to  luncheon  the  next  day  tired  but  jubilant. 

"  I  have  talked  myself  hoarse,"  she  said,  as  she  flung 
off  her  wraps.  "  I  had  no  idea  that  I  could  be  so  elo- 
quent. I  put  it  all  so  forcibly  and  clearly  before  Ruth — 
dear  me,  what  has  become  of  that  trumpeter! — that  she 
had  not  an  inch  of  ground  to  stand  on.  She  cried  about 
it,  poor  little  thing,  and  was  very  sweet  and  pathetic; 
but  she  gave  in." 

"  Really  and  truly,  Aunt  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Yes  dear.  '  One  of  you  must  make  a  sacrifice/  I 
said  to  her,  '  and  I  do  not  think  it  should  fall  on  your 
brother.'  And  that  did  the  business.  I  went  into  the 
library  and  told  Mr.  Chaytor  that  Ruth  had  consented, 
ard  he  was  very  much  pleased.  He  went  to  her  at  once 
and  thanked  her,  and  I  must  own  that  Ruth  behaved 
very  well.  She  just  put  her  arms  round  his  neck  in  such 
a  loving  way,  and  said  that  if  he  would  only  keep  her 


326  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

with  him,  she  would  do  all  he  wished,  and  try  not  to 
be  a  trouble  to  him.    I  could  see  he  was  quite  touched. 

"  He  is  bent  on  building  those  new  rooms,  Maureen. 
When  I  left  he  and  Ruth  were  discussing  it  quite  eagerly ; 
and  it  really  would  be  a  great  improvement.  Mr.  Chaytor 
would  have  his  library  entirely  to  himself,  and  there 
would  be  a  small  inner  room  opening  into  the  new  draw- 
ing-room for  Ruth's  use;  the  morning-room  would  do 
for  the  chaperon.  I  believe  Mr.  Chaytor  will  have  plans 
of  the  rooms  made  at  once,  and  though  it  will  be  a  great 
expense,  he  is  determined  to  carry  it  out.  There  are  to 
be  four  new  rooms  altogether — two  of  them  bedrooms. 
The  servants'  quarters  are  spacious  enough." 

Maureen  listened  to  this  in  silence.  She  was  not  quite 
sure  that  she  approved  of  the  innovations;  but  Margaret 
was  too  full  of  her  subject  to  heed  her.  She  had  kept 
to  herself  a  remark  Ruth  had  made.  "  Oh  dear,  how  I 
hate  the  idea  of  a  chaperon !  "  she  had  said  petulantly 
before  Margaret's  eloquence  had  taken  effect.  "  If  only 
Romney  could  fall  in  love  with  someone  and  marry  her, 
there  would  be  no  more  trouble."  And  Margaret  had 
smiled  acquiescence  to  this. 

"  Shall  you  go  to  the  Rectory  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes ;  it  all  comes  in  the  day's  work.  But  you 
need  not  wait  tea  for  me — time  flies  when  one  is  talking." 
Then  Maureen  made  up  her  mind  to  beguile  her  solitude 
by  writing  a  long  letter  to  Harold. 

When  Margaret  returned  her  plans  were  quite  settled. 

"  I  am  going  to  write  to  your  mother  to-night,"  she 
observed.  "  Mrs.  Whitworth  agrees  with  me  that  I  had 
better  be  on  the  spot  to  answer  advertisements,  and  to 
have  personal  interviews  with  the  ladies.  I  shall  prob- 
ably go  up  to  town  towards  the  end  of  next  week,  and 
the  Tweenies  had  better  keep  you  company  in  my  absence, 
for  I  shall  very  likely  be  away  for  a  week  or  ten  days. 
Shall  you  like  that,  Maureen  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Maggie,  what  a  delightful  plan,  and  you 
are  a  dear  to  think  of  it !  "  Then  Margaret  beamed. 


"  A  Lame  Dog  and  a  Stile  "          327 

"  I  feel  my  wings  growing  " — flapping  her  arms  with 
an  absurd  gesture.  "  It  was  rather  clever  of  me,  but  I 
thought  you  and  the  Tweenies  would  be  very  happy 
keeping  house  together,  and  Ruth  can  come  to  you  every 
day  if  you  like."  But  owing  to  unforeseen  circumstances 
this  delightful  plan  was  postponed  a  little,  though 
Margaret  faithfully  carried  it  out  later. 


XXXVI 

THE    GOLD    CROSS 

I  shall  know  by  the  gleam  and  glitter 

Of  the  golden  chain  you  wear, 
By  your  heart's  calm  strength  in  loving, 

Of  the  fire  they  have  had  to  bear. 
Beat  on,  true  heart,  for  ever; 

Shine  bright,  strong  golden  chain; 
And  bless  the  cleansing  fire, 

And  the  furnace  of  living  pain ! 

A.  A.  PROCTER. 

THE  following  Tuesday  afternoon  Maureen  was  sit- 
ting alone  trying  to  finish  a  little  frock  she  was  making 
for  one  of  Margaret's  numerous  protegees  before  the  day- 
light faded.  It  was  a  bleak  sunless  day,  with  a  nipping 
east  wind,  but  Margaret  had  been  obliged  to  forego  the 
comfort  of  her  warm  ingle  nook.  A  message  had  reached 
her  during  luncheon  from  the  Matron  of  the  Workhouse, 
that  an  old  man  in  whom  she  was  much  interested  had 
suddenly  become  worse,  and  they  feared  he  was  dying. 
And  Margaret  with  an  inward  shiver  or  two  wrapped 
herself  up  warmly  and  started  out. 

"  You  will  not  be  long,  Aunt  Maggie  ? "  Maureen 
had  pleaded.  "  Please  do  not  stay  longer  than  you  can 
help." 

"  There  will  be  probably  nothing  that  I  can  do,"  re- 
turned Margaret,  rather  sadly ;  "  but  of  course  one  can 
never  tell  in  such  cases.  Poor  old  Cheadle,  how  I  shall 
miss  his  dear  rugged  face !  "  And  then  she  hurried  off. 

Maureen  was  afraid  that  it  was  almost  unfeeling  of 
her  to  be  in  such  a  cheerful  mood  while  poor  old  Cheadle, 
the  patriarch  of  the  Workhouse,  lay  dying.  But  youthful 
nature  is  averse  to  gloom,  so  she  dismissed  the  painful 
subject  from  her  mind,  and  read  over  again  the  home 
letter  which  had  reached  her  at  midday,  in  which  Lois 

328 


The  Gold  Cross  329 

and  Sybil  had  expressed  their  rapture  at  receiving  Aunt 
Margaret's  invitation. 

''  Dear  little  souls,  they  are  pleased !  "  she  said  to 
herself  as  she  took  up  her  work  again ;  and  time  passed 
quickly  as  she  made  pleasant  plans  for  their  entertain- 
ment. "  Ruth  would  be  sure  to  come  to  them  frequently, 
and  very  likely  she  would  invite  them  to  have  tea  with 
her  at  Marsh  Hall.  Then  there  was  the  Rectory  and 
the  Mill  House,  and  probably  the  Brants  would  ask  them 
one  evening,  and  as  there  were  always  people  staying 
at  Gayton  Lodge,  there  was  sure  to  be  plenty  of  amuse- 
ment. The  Brant  girls  loved  to  get  up  impromptu 
charades  or  tableaux  vivants — they  \tere  great  on  games. 
Oh,  there  was  no  fear  of  the  Tweenies  being  dull ;  and 
how  cosy,  how  deliciously  cosy,  they  would  be  together !  " 

The  light  was  certainly  failing  now,  so  Maureen 
laid  by  her  unfinished  work  and  stirred  the  fire  into  a 
blaze.  As  she  threw  on  another  log  she  started  at  the 
sound  of  a  motor.  "  It  cannot  possibly  be  Mr.  Chaytor," 
she  thought ;  "  for  he  told  Aunt  Margaret  that  he  and 
Mr.  Torrance  would  certainly  not  be  back  until  Wed- 
nesday evening."  But  Maureen  was  wrong,  for  Rhoda 
announced  him  the  next  moment. 

"  The  maid  tells  me  that  Miss  Brydon  is  out,"  he 
said,  rather  abruptly,  as  he  shook  hands  with  Maureen. 
Something  in  his  manner  vaguely  troubled  her;  he 
seemed  nervous  and  ill  at  ease. 

"  Did  you  want  Aunt  Margaret?  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry, 
but  I  do  not  think  she  will  be  long  now.  She  had  a 
message  from  Miss  Milne  to  say  that  Thomas  Cheadle, 
the  oldest  pauper  in  the  Workhouse,  is  very  ill,  and  they 
sent  for  Aunt  Margaret  because  the  poor  old  man  was 
so  attached  to  her."  But  Mr.  Chaytor  seemed  too  pre- 
occupied to  listen  to  this.  He  looked  pale  and  fagged. 

"  And  you  think  she  wrll  not  be  long  ?  " 

"  No ;  at  least  I  cannot  tell ;  something  may  have 
detained  her.  Will  you  not  sit  down,  Mr.  Chaytor  ? " 
But  he  did  not  seem  to  hear  her. 


330  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  I  suppose  I  had  better  wait  ?  "  dubiously.  "  In  fact, 
there  is  nothing  else  to  do,  as  Gale  will  not  be  back  for 
the  next  half-hour.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  Miss  Brydon 
particularly.  Mr.  Whitworth  was  out — by  the  bye,  they 
said  he  was  at  the  Workhouse,  too — so  I  just  spoke  to 
Mrs.  Whitworth  and  came  on  here.  I  thought  Miss 
Brydon  would  wish  to  know  at  once  that  poor  Torrance 
has  had  an  accident." 

As  Mr.  Chaytor  said  this,  they  both  heard  Margaret's 
latchkey  in  the  door. 

"  I  will  tell  her  you  are  here  " — Maureen  spoke  rather 
breathlessly.  "  I  hope — I  hope — it  was  not  a  bad 
accident."  But  his  look  told  her  that  it  was. 

Margaret  was  freeing  herself  from  her  fur-lined 
cloak.  "  I  was  in  time,"  she  said  hurriedly,  when  she 
saw  Maureen ;  "  the  dear  old  man  knew  me  though  he 
could  not  speak,  and  there  was  quite  a  smile  on  his  face. 
Mr.  Whitworth  was  there,  and  we  had  some  beautiful 
prayers,  and  I  think  he  liked  them,  until  he  became  un- 
conscious. I  waited  to  the  end,  and  Mr.  Whitworth  and 
I  walked  back  together.  Don't  you  think  dear  old 
Cheadle  will  find  Paradise  a  nicer  place  than  the  Work- 
house ?  "  Margaret  was  warming  her  hands  at  the  hall 
fire  as  she  spoke. 

"  Aunt  Maggie,"  interrupted  Maureen,  "  Mr.  Chaytor 
is  in  the  dining-room.  I  think  he  wants  to  speak  to  you 
rather  particularly."  Then  Margaret  looked  extremely 
surprised. 

"  Why,  he  was  not  to  return  until  to-morrow,"  she 
observed ;  and  then  she  took  off  her  hat  and  went  quickly 
into  the  room. 

"  What  does  this  change  of  plan  mean  ?  "  she  asked, 
briskly.  "  Has  Mr.  Torrance  come  back  with  you,  or 
have  you  left  him  behind  ?  "  Then  Mr.  Chaytor  looked 
at  her  rather  strangely. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  after  a  moment's  hesitation ;  "  I 
have  brought  him  home.  Miss  Brydon,  I  regret  to  say 
poor  Torrance  has  had  an  accident — a  bad  accident — 


The  Gold  Cross  331 

and  we  greatly  fear "  Then  a  curious  grey  tinge 

came  to  Margaret's  face. 

"  He  is  dead !  "  she  said,  and  her  voice  sounded  dull 
and  toneless.  "  You  are  trying  to  break  it  to  me  because 
we  were  such  friends ;  but  you  cannot  deceive  me.  Henry 
Torrance  is  dead  ?  " 

Romney  Chaytor  bowed  his  head.  Much  as  he  mar- 
velled at  her  quickness  of  perception,  he  was  very  grate- 
ful to  her  for  making  his  painful  task  comparatively  easy. 
But  neither  of  them  seemed  to  notice  Maureen's  shocked 
exclamation. 

For  one  moment  Margaret's  hands  were  locked 
tightly  together,  but  she  spoke  calmly. 

"  When  did  it  happen  ?  how  ?  and  where  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  sit  down,"  returned  Romney,  very 
gently,  "  I  will  tell  you  all  I  know  myself." 

But  Margaret  remained  standing. 

"  You  will  promise  not  to  keep  anything  back  ?  I 
have  a  right  to  know  as  much  as  though  I  were  his 
sister."  Her  lips  trembled  slightly.  "  He  has  said  more 
than  once  that  I  was  like  a  sister  to  him  and  Esther." 

"  I  will  promise  that  you  shall  know  all  that  is  to 
tell,"  returned  Mr.  Chaytor. 

Then  she  sat  down  a  little  stiffly,  and  he  took  a  chair 
beside  her.  Maureen  crept  to  the  fender-stool.  It  was 
evident  to  her  that  they  were  hardly  conscious  of  her 
presence ;  but  she  felt  she  must  be  near  at  hand  if  either 
of  them  needed  her. 

"  It  was  yesterday  evening,"  he  began  in  a  low  voice. 
"  I  was  at  the  Great  Western  Hotel,  and  was  expecting 
him  to  join  me  about  eight,  but  he  did  not  come.  I 
thought  he  had  missed  his  train  and  would  take  the 
next  one ;  but  about  half-past  nine  I  had  a  message  from 
the  station-master — he  wanted  to  see  me.  A  letter  ad- 
dressed to  me  at  the  hotel  had  been  found — a  mere  note 
which  the  poor  fellow  had  forgotten  to  post;  but  they 
thought  I  might  be  a  relative,  and  they  wished  me  to 
see  him.  He  had  been  dead  some  hours.  But  my  dear 


332  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Miss  Brydon,"  as  a  look  of  horror  came  into  Margaret's 
eyes,  "  do  not  distress  yourself ;  he  did  not  suffer.  Thank 
God !  from  all  accounts  death  must  have  been 
instantaneous." 

"  But  how  ?  "  Margaret's  rigid  lips  could  hardly  form 
the  words. 

"  I  will  tell  you  as  well  as  I  can,  but  the  account  is 
rather  vague.  There  were  only  two  ladies  and  a  little 
boy  with  poor  Torrance  in  the  compartment ;  one  was 
the  mother  of  the  child.  He  was  a  restless  little  fellow 
and  would  not  keep  quiet.  They  think  that  the  door 
had  not  been  securely  fastened  at  the  previous  station. 
It  was  dark,  and  they  were  drawing  near  their  journey's 
end  when  the  accident  happened.  The  child  had  sud- 
denly run  to  that  end  of  the  compartment.  Torrance 
must  have  seen  the  door  fly  open,  for  one  of  the  ladies 
saw  him  spring  up  and  try  to  catch  the  boy.  Either  his 
foot  slipped,  or  he  overbalanced  himself  in  his  efforts 
to  save  the  child,  but  they  were  both  flung  out  on  the 
line.  The  mother's  screams  were  heard,  and  the  alarm 
was  given,  and  it  was  not  long  before  they  were  found. 
Strange  to  say,  the  boy  was  almost  uninjured,  for  he  had 
fallen  on  a  little  heap  of  gravel.  Poor  Torrance's  head 
had  come  in  contact  with  some  iron;  but  they  say — and 
I  think  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  fact — that  he  must 
have  been  killed  at  once." 

"  Oh,  thank  God  for  that ! "  and  Margaret's  strange 
rigidity  relaxed;  she  even  looked  at  Maureen,  who  had 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  with  something  like 
pity.  "  Poor  child !  "  Romney  heard  her  say  under  her 
breath,  "  we  ought  to  have  spared  her  this."  For  even 
in  this  crucial  moment  Margaret  could  think  of  others. 

"  There  was  a  workman's  shelter  close  by,  and  they 
took  them  there  until  they  could  be  sent  on  to  Padding- 
ton  ;  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  for  the  poor  dear 
fellow. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  go  into  particulars,"  he  went  on 
hurriedly.  "  A  friend  of  mine,  Dr.  Davie,  who  lived  just 


The  Gold  Cross  333 

by,  helped  me  to  make  all  necessary  arrangements.  I 
had  my  motor,  and  it  was  he  who  suggested  a  motor 
ambulance.  We  have  just  brought  him  home.  I  had 
wired  twice  to  his  housekeeper — poor  soul,  she  is  sadly 
upset !  " 

Then  Margaret  shivered  as  though  she  were  suddenly 
cold. 

"  Shall  I  be  able  to  see  him?  "  she  almost  whispered. 
But  he  shook  his  head. 

"  It  will  not  be  possible  now.  I  saw  him  early  this 
morning — he  looked  as  though  he  were  sleeping,  and 
there  was  quite  a  smile  on  his  lips.  I  said  to  Gale,  he 
seemed  to  me  like  a  wounded  soldier  who  had  fallen  in 
the  battle."  And  as  he  said  this  a  little  colour  came  back 
into  Margaret's  lips.  He  had  touched  the  right  chord. 

"  It  is  the  truth ! "  and  her  voice  was  more  natural. 
"  His  life  was  not  a  happy  one,  but  he  died  nobly  in 
trying  to  save  a  child.  Mr.  Chaytor,  he  was  your  friend 
as  well  as  mine,  and  both  our  lives  will  be  poorer  without 
him;  but  for  him  I  believe  all  is  well." 

"  My  dear  lady,  I  believe  it  too !  "  And  then  there 
was  silence  for  a  few  minutes. 

Maureen,  who  was  crying  quietly,  had  an  opportunity 
to  notice  how  worn  and  weary  Mr.  Chaytor  looked. 
He  had  evidently  been  up  all  night  and  he  was  jaded  and 
dishevelled  from  his  journey. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  go  now,"  he  said,  presently.  "  I 
have  to  see  Whitworth.  But  there  is  something  I  must 
give  you  first,  Miss  Brydon.  We  found  this  little  parcel 
in  poor  Torrance's  pocket;  you  will  see  it  is  addressed 
to  you." 

"  Thank  you  " ;  and  Margaret's  hand  closed  over  the 
packet.  "  By  and  by  I  will  go  round  to  Joanna — perhaps 
I  may  be  able  to  help  her  " ;  and  Romney  Chaytor  under- 
stood, for  he  said  nothing  to  dissuade  her.  But  as 
Maureen  followed  him  into  the  hall,  she  asked  him  a  little 
piteously  if  it  would  not  be  possible  to  prevent  her  Aunt 
Margaret  from  going  out  again  that  evening. 


334  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  It  has  been  such  a  shock,"  she  said,  sensibly.  "  And 
she  has  been  by  a  death-bed  all  the  afternoon,  and  I  am 
so  afraid  for  her." 

"  You  need  not  be,"  he  said,  kindly.  "  You  have  no 
idea  how  strong  Miss  Brydon  is  physically  and  mentally. 
It  is  not  far  to  the  Old  Grey  House;  and  she  will  be 
a  great  comfort  to  poor  Joanna,  and  possibly  it  will  be 
a  sort  of  relief  to  realise  things  for  herself.  Leave  her 
to  be  quiet  and  to  do  as  she  thinks  best.  Believe  me, 
it  will  be  the  kindest  thing  under  the  circumstances." 
And  Maureen  wisely  followed  this  advice.  Rhoda,  who 
had  an  inkling  that  her  mistress  was  not  to  be  disturbed 
— for  a  report  of  the  accident  had  already  reached  the 
servants'  ears — had  placed  the  tea-tray  on  a  little  table 
by  the  hall  fire.  Maureen  pointed  to  it  mutely,  but  Mr. 
Chaytor  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  now ;  I  cannot  wait.  Whitworth  will  be  ex- 
pecting me.  Take  Miss  Brydon  a  cup  of  tea,  and  make 
her  drink  it,  but  don't  force  her  to  talk."  And  then  he 
bade  her  good-night. 

When  Maureen  went  back  to  the  room  she  found 
that  Margaret  had  changed  her  attitude.  She  was  kneel- 
ing on  the  fender-stool,  and  perhaps  it  was  the  fire  that 
had  brought  that  strange  flush  to  her  face. 

"  Mr.  Chaytor  says  you  are  to  drink  this,  Aunt 
Margaret,  before  you  go  out  in  the  cold." 

"Did  he?  But  I  am  not  going  just  yet."  Then  she 
took  the  cup,  leaving  the  saucer  to  Maureen,  and  drank 
it  a  little  feverishly,  and  all  the  time  her  left  hand  was 
grasping  the  sealed  packet.  It  was  not  here,  or  in  any 
one's  presence,  that  the  precious  last  gift  should  be 
opened. 

"  Thank  you,  dear,  that  was  very  nice.  Now  I  can- 
not talk,  and  I  am  going  to  my  own  room  for  a  little. 
Rhoda  has  lighted  a  fire  there,  so  I  shall  not  be  cold. 
Do  not  wait  for  me.  Let  everything  go  on  as  usual." 
And  then  with  a  slow,  languid  step  she  left  the  room. 

An  hour  later  she  re-entered  it  in  her  walking-dress, 


The  Gold  Cross  335 

and  without  taking  any  notice  of  Maureen,  who  was  sit- 
ting rather  dejectedly  by  the  fire,  she  went  up  to  a  beau- 
tiful plant  of  white  chrysanthemums  which  Ruth  had 
brought  her  the  previous  day,  and  quietly  stript  it  of  its 
choicest  blossoms,  until  it  was  almost  bare. 

"  I  am  going  now,"  she  said,  hurriedly,  when  she  had 
loosely  tied  the  flowers  together.  "  Don't  worry  about 
me,  dear  child,  I  shall  be  all  right."  And  then  the  door 
closed,  and  Maureen  was  left  to  her  weary  thoughts. 

"  I  never  knew  any  one  like  her,"  thought  the  girl. 
"  She  feels  it  terribly,  I  can  see  that ;  but  she  has  not 
shed  a  tear,  and  she  speaks  almost  in  her  usual  manner." 
But  if  she  could  have  read  Margaret's  thoughts  as  she 
hurried  through  the  wintry  darkness  she  might  have 
marvelled  more. 

Joanna  received  her  with  sobs  and  tears. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,  Miss  Brydon !  "  cried  the 
poor  woman,  hysterically,  as  Margaret  kissed  her.  ''  To 
think  I  have  lived  -to  see  this  day,  and  he  the  best  of 
masters,  bless  him!  I'd  have  sent  Lizzie  to  the  Garden 
House,  but  the  girl  was  so  scared  and  helpless-like,  that 
I  was  forced  to  leave  her  by  the  kitchen  fire." 

"  Never  mind,"  returned  Margaret,  gently.  "  Perhaps 
it  was  better  for  Mr.  Chaytor  to  tell  me." 

"  I  was  fearing  you  might  blame  me ;  for  the  master 
he  thought  such  a  deal  of  you,  and  I  would  not  have 
been  wanting  in  respect  for  worlds." 

"  Where  have  they  put  him,  Joanna  ?  You  see  I  have 
brought  these  flowers."  Then  the  poor  woman  sobbed 
afresh. 

"  Mr.  Chaytor  wired  that  the  dining-room  was  to  be 
got  ready — and  I  was  bound  to  do  what  he  said.  There 
was  that  Tobias — we  could  do  nothing  for  him.  He 
just  followed  the  coffin,  as  though  he  knew  all  about  it, 
and  it  was  terrible  how  he  cried.  We  were  forced  to 
drive  him  away  at  last.  We  have  shut  him  up  in  the 
master's  room,  and  he  is  a  bit  quieter.  But,  oh  dear! 
oh  dear ; "  and  Joanna's  apron  went  to  her  eyes  again. 


336  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Margaret  was  very  patient  with  her,  and  when  she 
was  quieter  they  went  into  the  room  where  the  dead  man 
lay. 

"  I  will  just  light  the  candles  and  leave  you  for  a 
bit,  Miss  Brydon,  for  Lizzie  needs  me,  I  know.  But 
do  not  stay  over  long,  for  the  room  is  chill." 

"  I  shall  not  be  long,"  returned  Margaret,  quietly ; 
but  as  the  door  closed  on  Joanna  she  laid  down  her 
flowers  and  kissed  the  coffin-lid  very  gently. 

"  Henry,"  she  said,  "  you  were  very  good  to  think  of 
me,  and  I  am  going  to  open  the  packet  now." 

Then  as  she  broke  the  seal  she  saw  there  was  a  little 
inscription  written : 

"  For  Margaret,  my  most  faithful  friend  and  good  comrade, 
in  remembrance  of  our  long  friendship. 

"HENRY  TORRANCE." 

It  was  a  gold  cross  with  a  small  diamond  in  the 
centre,  and  the  workmanship  was  very  fine  and  delicate; 
in  the  dim  light  the  sunken  diamond  glistened  like  a 
tear-drop.  Then  as  she  gazed  at  it  a  sudden  sob  came 
to  Margaret's  lips,  and  for  a  few  minutes  she  could  only 
weep  silently. 


XXXVII 

TOBIAS  SEEKS  FOR  HIS  MASTER 

When  the  song's  gone  out  of  your  life,  you  can't  start 
another  while  it  is  ringing  in  your  ears ;  it's  best  to  have  a 
bit  o'  silence,  and  out  o'  that  maybe  a  psalm  will  come  later. — 
EDWARD  GARRETT. 

The  heart  has  reasons  that  reason  does  not  understand. — 
BOSSUET. 

IT  was  evident  to  Maureen  the  next  morning  that 
Margaret  had  had  an  unrestful  night.  The  sallowness 
of  her  skin  was  accentuated,  and  her  eyes  were  heavy; 
but  when  Maureen  questioned  her  rather  anxiously  she 
did  not  deny  the  fact. 

"  No,  I  have  not  slept  well,"  she  said,  simply.  "  One 
can  hardly  be  surprised  at  that,  and  my  head  certainly 
aches  a  little." 

"  And  yet  you  are  going  out !  "  For  Margaret  had 
just  announced  her  intention  of  going  round  to  the 
Old  Grey  House. 

"  Yes,  I  promised  Joanna  that  I  would  go  round  as 
early  as  I  could ;  but  I  have  one  or  two  business  notes 
to  write  first.  Poor  Joanna!  she  is  a  dear,  faithful 
creature,  but  extremely  limited  in  her  ideas.  Things 
are  not  as  I  like  to  see  them,  and  we  could  do  nothing 
last  night." 

"  I  wish  you  would  let  me  help  you,  Aunt  Maggie." 
But  Margaret  shook  her  head  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Could 
I  not  write  those  notes  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,  my  dear.  I  want  to  give  Harrison 
instructions  about  the  cross  myself.  But  there  is  one 
thing  you  can  do.  Will  you  write  to  your  mother  and 
let  her  know  what  has  happened?  Tell  her  that  I 
cannot  leave  home  just  now,  but  that  I  will  come  a  little 
later  on." 

8*  337 


338  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  I  thought  you  would  put  it  off  until  after  Christ- 
mas," returned  Maureen,  rather  surprised  at  this.  Mar- 
garet, who  was  feeling  ill  and  overstrained  from  her 
sleepless  night,  had  to  keep  herself  well  in  hand  before 
she  could  answer  quietly : 

"Why  should  I  put  it  off?  It  is  no  question  of 
.enjoyment.  I  am  only  going  on  Mr.  Chaytor's  business. 
In  a  week  or  ten  days  I  shall  probably  be  ready.  Why 
do  you  look  at  me  in  that  way,  Maureen?  If  I  am  un- 
happy, that  is  surely  no  reason  why  other  people  should 
suffer.  Why  should  those  poor  children  be  disappointed 
of  their  visit?  But  we  will  settle  all  that  later  on."  Then 
.as  Maureen  had  finished  her  breakfast,  Margaret  went 
quickly  out  of  the  room  to  prevent  any  further  discussion. 

It  was  only  natural  that  Margaret's  nerves  should 
•have  suffered  from  the  sudden  shock.  During  the  long 
dark  hours  of  her  wakeful  night  her  imagination  had 
•conjured  up  all  manner  of  ghastly  images.  In  vain  she 
had  tried  to  compose  herself  by  quoting  comforting  texts 
and  favourite  verses  of  hymns ;  again  and  again  the 
swinging  door,  the  fatal  fall  in  the  darkness,  the  agonised 
screams  of  the  mother,  passed  through  her  brain  and 
before  her  eyes  with  feverish  rapidity. 

"  Human  nature  is  weak,"  she  said  not  long  after- 
wards to  Anna,  "  and  that  night  my  faith  failed  a  little." 

"  Not  your  faith ;  but  your  nerves  played  you  false, 
Margaret,"  returned  her  sister-in-law,  tenderly,  for  on 
this  occasion  they  had  spoken  quite  openly  about  Mar- 
garet's trouble.  "  I  know  you  so  well,  dear.  It  was  only 
that  you  had  not  recovered  from  the  shock." 

"  You  are  very  comforting,  Anna,"  returned  Mar- 
garet, gently;  "  but  I  am  afraid  I  thought  more  of  myself 
than  of  him.  I  ought  to  have  remembered  that  a  sudden 
death  would  have  been  his  choice,  and,  terrible  as  it 
seems  to  us,  they  all  tell  me  he  could  not  have  suffered. 
It  was  a  leap  through  the  darkness,  a  crash,  and  then 
•eternal  life." 

"  Yes,  yes." 


Tobias  Seeks  for  His  Master         339 

"  I  think,"  continued  Margaret,  solemnly,  "  that  he 
had  some  sort  of  presentiment  that  he  would  not  live 
long.  You  know  that  new  will  was  only  made  about 
six  weeks  before  his  death.  He  had  such  a  horror  of 
illness.  I  know  he  told  me  once,  a  year  or  two  after 
Esther's  death,  that  the  idea  of  lying  in  bed  and  waiting 
for  the  end  to  draw  nearer  each  clay  was  a  perfect  night- 
mare to  him.  '  If  one  could  only  be  shot  down  in  battle  ' 
— those  were  his  words.  And  he  often  told  me  that  he 
thought  a  soldier's  death  enviable." 

Margaret  never  dared  to  recall  that  night,  but  with 
the  grey  wintry  dawn  calmer  thoughts  had  come  to  her. 
She  no  longer  craved  so  intensely  to  look  at  his  dead 
face.  After  all,  it  was  better  to  remember  him  as  he 
was  that  last  night.  He  had  never  been  more  gentle  and 
affectionate.  She  remembered  his  expression  when 
he  called  her  his  Lady  of  Dreams.  And  then  that 
strange  half-waking  vision  of  his — his  idea  that  Esther 
was  gliding  through  the  room  holding  out  her  hands 
to  each  of  them. 

"  I  was  not  asleep,  but  it  was  your  playing,  my 
dear,"  he  had  said  to  her.  And  then  he  had  bade  God 
bless  her.  Never  before  had  he  parted  from  her  so 
solemnly.  Well,  he  was  with  his  Esther  now.  And 
then  Margaret  had  turned  on  her  pillow  and  had  shed 
a  few  more  tears  at  the  thought  of  her  own  loneliness. 

"  Not  that  I  would  have  you  back,  Henry,"  she  whis- 
pered ;  "  only  life  is  sometimes  a  little  hard."  And  then 
she  breathed  a  prayer  that  she  might  have  courage  to 
bear  her  cross  well  and  patiently;  and  as  it  is  not  often 
that  such  prayers  are  left  long  unanswered,  Margaret 
found  that  daily  strength  was  given  to  bear  the  day's 
burden. 

Margaret  went  every  day  to  the  Old  Grey  House. 
She  could  not  have  kept  from  it  as  long  as  her  dear 
friend  lay  there.  Once  she  took  Maureen  with  her.  It 
was  the  day  before  the  funeral,  and  she  wished  her  to  see 


340  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

the  beautiful  flowers  that  had  been  sent.  Margaret's 
cross  and  Mr.  Chaytor's  wreath  lay  on  the  coffin. 

Maureen's  attention  was  a  little  distracted  by  seeing 
Tobias  sitting  under  the  table,  and  she  called  Margaret's 
attention  to  him;  but  she  took  it  very  quietly. 

"  He  always  comes  in  here  with  me,"  she  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  "  he  does  no  harm,  poor  fellow.  I  believe  he 
spends  most  of  his  time  outside  the  door,  hoping  that 
some  one  will  let  him  in."  And  when  Margaret  had 
put  her  last  finishing  touches  she  took  the  great  creature 
in  her  arms  and  carried  him  out.  But  Maureen  saw  her 
lay  her  cheek  against  the  sleek  head  very  tenderly. 
"  Poor  Tobias,  you  have  lost  your  best  friend ! "  she 
said,  softly. 

It  was  in  the  mild  greyness  of  a  November  after- 
noon when  they  laid  the  earthly  remains  of  Henry  Tor- 
ranee  beside  the  young  wife  he  had  mourned  so  long 
and  faithfully.  As  they  came  out  of  the  church  a  watery 
gleam  of  sunshine  gave  a  transient  brightness,  and  a 
robin  sang  sweetly  from  the  acacia  tree.  The  church- 
yard seemed  full  of  people,  for  Henry  Torrance  had  been 
much  respected  in  the  neighbourhood.  All  the  shops  in 
High  Street  were  closed,  and  the  children  from  the 
schools  and  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Workhouse 
were  there,  but  only  one  relation — a  distant  and  wealthy 
cousin — followed  the  coffin  with  Mr.  Chaytor.  Mar- 
garet was  behind  them  with  Joanna.  Margaret's  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  "  great  breadth  of  evening  sky  " ;  the 
robin's  song  of  hope  was  thrilling  her  heart  with  sweet- 
ness. Her  ministering  work  was  over  now;  her  friend 
was  at  rest.  It  was  well  with  him ;  then  surely  it 
should  be  well  with  her  when  time  and  patience 
had  done  their  work.  "  They  will  not  forget  me  even 
in  Paradise,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  went  back  to 
the  empty  church. 

Romney  Chaytor  came  later  on  to  the  Garden  House, 
and  he  and  Margaret  had  a  long  talk  alone.  Maureen, 
who  was  trying  to  fix  her  attention  on  a  book  she  was 


Tobias  Seeks  for  His  Master         341 

reading  by  the  drawing-room  fire,  wondered  more  than 
once  what  he  could  have  to  say  to  her.  But  presently 
she  heard  Mr.  Chaytor's  limping  step  cross  the  hall,  and 
to  her  surprise  he  entered  the  room. 

"  I  thought  Miss  Brydon  would  like  to  be  alone  a 
little,"  he  observed,  quietly,  "  so  1  have  come  to  talk  to 
you  until  the  motor  comes  round ;  it  will  not  be  long  now. 
I  knew  you  would  like  to  know  about  poor  Torrance's 
will ;  perhaps  you  have  not  heard  that  he  appointed  me 
his  executor." 

"  Oh  no,  I  had  not  heard  that." 

"  It  was  strange  he  should  have  made  a  new  will  so 
recently.  I  knew  he  intended  to  do  so,  for  he  told  me 
at  Marsh  Hall  one  evening  that  he  wished  to  make  some 
alteration.  '  I  have  no  relation  but  Willoughby,'  I  re- 
member he  said,  '  and  he  is  a  wealthy  manufacturer,  and 
needs  nothing  from  me.' " 

"  How  lonely  that  sounds,"  sighed  Maureen. 

"  Yes,  he  was  lonely  enough,  poor  fellow,  except  for 
his  friends;  but  I  should  like  to  tell  you  a  little  about 
his  will.  Torrance  was  not  a  rich  man,  and  he  had  only 
a  lease  of  his  house,  but  he  had  a  fair  practice  and 
managed  to  save  money. 

"  He  has  left  Joanna  some  of  the  furniture  and  five 
hundred  pounds;  and  as  she  has  a  small  income  of  her 
own  she  will  be  able  to  retire  from  service,  and  he  has 
also  remembered  the  other  servant  and  the  young  clerk 
in  his  office. 

"  The  books,  some  of  which  are  rather  valuable,  are 
to  be  divided  between  Mr.  Whitworth  and  myself,  and 
he  has  also  left  a  sum  of  five  hundred  pounds  to  be 
devoted  to  parochial  charities  or  to  the  church  as  the  rec- 
tor thinks  best.  The  rest  of  his  money,  amounting  to 
about  six  or  seven  thousand  pounds,  is  left  absolutely  and 
unconditionally  to  Miss  Brydon." 

"To  Aunt  Margaret?" 

"Yes;  are  you  surprised  at  that?  I  do  not  think 
he  could  have  done  better.  Your  aunt  was  a  little  over- 


342  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

come  when  I  told  her;  she  had  not  expected  it.  She  is 
also  to  take  her  choice  of  anything  in  the  Old  Grey 
House." 

"  And  Tobias  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  would  have  left  her  Tobias  too  if  it  had 
not  been  for  Master.  But  he  will  probably  make  his  own 
choice  of  a  home,  for  Joanna  would  gladly  keep  him  if 
he  would  only  consent  to  go  with  her.  Miss  Brydon  was 
speaking  about  him  just  now;  she  seemed  rather  anxious 
on  the  subject  of  his  future." 

"  Perhaps  he  and  Master  would  learn  to  put  up  with 
each  other,"  returned  Maureen.  And  then  they  heard 
the  motor,  and  Mr.  Chaytor  bade  her  good-bye,  and  she 
went  back  to  the  dining-room.  Margaret,  who  was  very 
flushed,  and  looked  as  though  she  had  been  shedding 
tears,  smiled  at  her  in  rather  a  touching  way. 

"  Has  he  told  you,  Maureen  ?  I  asked  him  to  do  so, 
for  I  wanted  you  to  know,  and  yet  somehow  I  did  not 
care  to  talk  of  it." 

"  Yes,  he  told  me.  I  am  very  glad,  dear  Aunt 
Maggie." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  glad  too.  But  it  is  not  the  money 
I  care  about,  only  the  thoughtf ulness,  the  kindness  " ; 
here  her  eyes  filled  again  with  tears,  "  but  we  will  not 
talk  about  it  this  evening."  And  Margaret  leant  back 
a  little  wearily  in  her  chair,  for  the  day  had  been  a  trying 
one  for  her,  and  Master  instinctively  seemed  to  know 
this,  for  he  kept  very  close  to  his  mistress,  as  though  in 
his  fond  foolish  way  he  longed  to  comfort  her. 

Maureen  fetched  her  book  and  curled  herself  up  in  her 
corner,  and  Margaret,  who  was  in  no  mood  for  talk, 
kept  company  with  her  own  thoughts,  but  presently  she 
started  up.  "  Oh,  Maureen,"  she  said,  excitedly,  "  I 
am  sure  that  is  Tobias's  voice;  he  has  come  in  search 
of  his  master." 

"  Don't  move,  I  will  let  him  in,"  and  Maureen  rushed 
to  the  door.  The  next  moment  Tobias  trotted  into  the 
room  and  jumped  on  Margaret's  lap  with  a  plaintive 


Tobias  Seeks  for  His  Master          343 

mew,  taking  no  notice  of  Master,  who  had  uttered  a 
low  growl. 

"  Hush,  Master,  you  must  be  good  to  Tobias,"  and 
Margaret  looked  into  the  dog's  eyes.  But  Tobias 
continued  to  mew. 

"  He  is  not  here,"  Margaret  returned  sadly,  as  she 
stroked  his  fur.  Then,  as  though  the  animal  understood 
her  sorrowful  words,  he  jumped  down  and  searched  the 
room.  Finally,  he  went  to  the  door  and  announced  his 
intention  of  going  home. 

"  There  is  no  use  trying  to  keep  him.  You  had  bet- 
ter let  him  out,  Maureen,  or  Joanna  will  be  shutting  up 
the  house.  Perhaps  he  will  come  to  us  again." 

Margaret  was  right.  Every  evening  Tobias  demanded 
admittance.  Sometimes  he  sat  contentedly  on  the  rug 
washing  himself,  and  making  himself  quite  at  home ; 
but  he  always  went  back  to  the  Old  Grey  House  for  the 
night.  When  Joanna  took  possession  of  her  new  cottage, 
not  far  from  the  church,  she  tried  hard  to  coax  him  to 
go  with  her;  but  Tobias,  who  had  a  will  of  his  own, 
refused  to  accompany  her.  For  one  or  two  evenings  he 
went  back  to  the  empty  house,  and  Margaret  could  hardly 
sleep  for  thinking  of  him.  Finally  he  made  up  his  mind 
that  his  master  was  not  coming  back,  and  took  up  his 
quarters  for  good  and  all  at  the  Garden  House. 

There  was  armed  neutrality  between  him  and  Master ; 
but  though  they  consented,  after  a  time,  to  share  the 
hearthrug,  there  was  never  any  friendship  between  them. 
Tobias  lost  his  sprightly  ways;  he  became  grave  and 
dignified,  but  he  manifested  an  increasing  affection  for 
Margaret,  and  would  often  curl  himself  up  on  her  lap 
when  she  was  reading. 

About  a  week  after  Henry  Torrance's  funeral,  Mar- 
garet quietly  told  Maureen  that  she  intended  going  to 
the  Homestead  in  a  few  days,  and  that  she  had  written 
to  her  mother. 

"  I  have  settled  it  all,"  she  said,  in  a  decided  tone. 
"  I  shall  go  up  on  Thursday  morning,  and  the  Tweenies 


344  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

will  come  down  in  the  afternoon,  and  I  shall  probably  be 
away  ten  days.  Lois  and  Sybil  can  stay  here  another 
week,  and  then  you  can  go  back  with  them  for 
Christmas." 

"  Are  you  coming  too,  Aunt  Margaret  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear ;  not  this  year.  I  prefer  staying 
quietly  at  the  Garden  House.  Why,  how  shocked  you 
look,  Maureen.  But  I  am  quite  serious." 

"  And  you  think — you  can  believe  for  one  moment — 
that  I  would  leave  you  alone  " ;  and  the  girl  spoke  in 
a  hurt  voice.  But  Margaret  only  smiled  at  her. 

"  I  believe  you  will  do  so  if  you  know  I  really  wish 
it.  Listen  to  me  for  a  moment,  darling.  I  cannot  bear 
to  think  that  your  father  should  miss  one  of  his  children 
on  Christmas  Day.  I  have  set  my  heart  on  your  all 
being  together." 

"  But  father  and  mother  would  not  wish  me  to  leave 
you  alone,  Aunt  Maggie." 

"  My  dear,  they  will  understand  when  I  tell  them. 
My  Christmas  Days  have  always  been  spent  very  quietly 
at  the  Garden  House.  This  year  I  prefer — I  greatly 
prefer  to  be  alone." 

"  Then  in  that  case  I  can  say  no  more."  But  Maureen 
spoke  in  a  constrained  tone.  She  was  deeply  hurt.  "  Of 
course  if  you  do  not  want  me  " ;  but  Margaret  gave  her 
a  quick,  loving  kiss. 

"  Don't  be  silly,  little  girl,  and  get  fancies  in  your 
head.  I  wonder  if  you  have  any  idea  " — her  voice  soft- 
ening perceptibly — "  what  a  comfort  you  are  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  wanted— I  tried  to  be." 

"  Then  you  have  succeeded,  dearest.  If  you  knew 
how  grateful  I  have  often  felt  for  your  tact  and  thought- 
fulness.  All  this  week,  while  my  nerves  have  been 
troubling  me,  I  could  not  have  borne  to  have  any  one  else 
near  me." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Margaret,  are  you  sure  of  that?"  But 
Maureen  could  say  no  more,  her  heart  was  too  full. 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  me  say  anything  I  did  not 


Tobias  Seeks  for  His  Master          345 

really  mean?  Oh,  don't  cry,  Maureen,  or  you  will  make 
me  feel  that  I  am  wrong  and  selfish.  If  I  could  only 
make  you  understand  how  I  feel.  I  want  to  spend  my 
Christmas  week  alone — to  do  as  I  like,  look  as  I  like, 
and  make  no  efforts.  It  will  be  such  rest,  just  to  take 
counsel  with  myself,  and  to  think  over  things,  and  then 
begin  the  New  Year  bravely.  It  will  be  best  for  me  and 
best  for  you,  too,  my  dear."  Then  Maureen,  with  sudden 
contrition,  threw  her  arms  round  Margaret's  neck. 

"  Oh,  please  forgive  me,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  have  not 
been  good.  I  felt  sore  and  hurt,  but  indeed  I  do  under- 
stand, and  I  will  never  behave  in  this  way  again.  I  will 
go  home  with  the  girls,  and  I  know  how  glad  they  will 
all  be  to  have  me." 

"  Thank  you,  darling,"  and  Margaret's  kind  arm 
pressed  her  closer.  "  You  will  come  back  to  me  on  New 
Year's  day,  and  we  will  begin  it  together,  and  try  to  be 
very  happy."  And  as  the  girl's  brown  head  rested 
against  her,  she  whispered : 

"'Here  is  a  beautiful  Hope  for  you, 
A  Hope  for  me  and  a  Hope  for  you.' 

We  will  both  say  Amen  to  that,  Maureen." 


XXXVIII 

"A  HAPPY  NEW  YEAR,   DEAREST!" 

Yes,  it  is  well !    The  evening  shadows  lengthen ; 

Home's  golden  gates  shine  on  our  ravished  sight, 
And  though  the  tender  ties  we  strove  to  strengthen 

Break  one  by  one,  at  evening-time  'tis  light. 

'Tis  well,  O  friends !    We  would  not  turn,  retracing 
The  long  vain  years,  nor  call  our  lost  youth  back. 

Gladly,   with  spirits  braced,  the   future   facing, 
We  leave  behind  the  dusty,  footworn  track. 

ANON. 

MAUREEN'S  pleasurable  anticipations  of  her  sisters' 
visit  had  been  sadly  damped.  "  I  don't  believe  that  I 
shall  enjoy  things  a  bit  now,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she 
walked  to  the  station  that  Thursday ;  but  she  was  wrong. 
The  sight  of  the  two  bright  young  faces  smiling  at  her 
from  the  train  window  drove  all  gravity  away.  The 
world  was  full  of  trouble,  no  doubt.  There  were  freshly 
made  graves  and  sad  hearts  everywhere,  but  Maureen 
and  the  Tweenies  were  young,  and  youth  is  youth.  And 
so  in  the  old  Garden  House,  which  Margaret  loved  so 
dearly,  three  happy  girls  ran  up  and  downstairs,  and 
the  old  walls  rang  with  their  merriment.  Everything 
took  place  as  Maureen  had  planned.  They  had  tea  at 
the  Rectory  and  the  Mill  House,  and  they  spent  an  even- 
ing at  Gayton  Lodge,  and  the  Brants  got  up  an  im- 
promptu charade  and  wonderful  groups  of  statuary,  with 
only  sheets  and  burning  spirits-of-wine  for  their  stage 
properties.  Lois  made  a  lovely  Andromache,  and  Ruth 
looked  a  perfect  vision  as  the  Sleeping  Beauty. 

One  afternoon  was  spent  at  Marsh  Hall,  when  Mr. 
Chaytor  made  himself  very  pleasant  to  the  twins,  who 
were  at  first  inclined  to  be  rather  shy  with  him.  Before 
they  left  he  found  an  opportunity  of  speaking  a  few 
words  alone  with  Maureen. 

846 


"A  Happy  New  Year,  Dearest!"     347 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Miss  Brydon  this  morning," 
he  said.  "  I  am  afraid  she  finds  her  task  rather  difficult." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  returned  Maureen.  "  I  have  had 
two  notes  from  her,  and  she  had  seen  six  or  seven  ladies, 
none  of  whom  would  be  likely  to  suit  Ruth.  One  was 
a  Romanist,  another  a  fashionable  woman  in  temporary 
difficulties,  and  so  on." 

"  Well,  she  seems  to  have  found  rather  a  decent  per- 
son at  last.  Stop,  I  have  her  letter  in  my  pocket.  I  will 
read  what  she  says  about  her.  Let  me  see.  Yes,  here 
it  is: 

"  '  I  have  been  working  hard  all  the  week,  but  every  fresh 
interview  has  only  brought  me  disappointment.  Such  im- 
possible women !  some  of  them  not  even  gentlewomen.  But 
this  morning  I  have  seen  some  one  I  really  do  like — a  Mrs. 
Holden,  the  widow  of  an  officer,  who  was  killed  in  one  of 
these  costly  little  frontier  wars.  She  is  a  sweet-looking,  lady- 
like person.  A  little  quiet  and  subdued  by  her  troubles,  poor 
soul,  and  no  wonder !  for  she  ha$  lost  her  child  as  well  as 
her  husband.  But  I  really  think  she  is  just  the  sort  of  person 
that  Ruth  would  like.  The  chief  difficulty  is  that  the  arrange- 
ment is  likely  to  be  only  temporary,  as  she  may  possibly  have 
to  join  a  brother  in  Madras.  This  is  by  no  means  certain, 
but  Mrs.  Holden  wishes  us  to  know  this.  In  any  case  she 
would  be  free  for  six  or  eight  months,  or  even  longer.  If 
it  were  not  troubling  you,  I  should  much  like  you  to  see  her. 
I  forgot  to  say  that  she  is  only  eight-and-thirty.'  " 

"  It  sounds  promising,"  observed  Maureen,  as  Mr. 
Chaytor  paused  here. 

"  It  does,  indeed.  So  I  shall  motor  over  to-morrow, 
and  probably  come  back  the  same  night.  It  is  hardly 
fair  to  leave  all  the  responsibility  to  Miss  Brydon." 

"  It  seems  rather  a  pity,  though,  if  the  arrangement 
is  to  be  only  a  temporary  one.  If  you  and  Ruth  like 
Mrs.  Holden,  you  will  be  sorry  to  lose  her  after  a  few 
months." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Something  else  may  turn  up," 
and  Mr.  Chaytor's  smile  was  a  little  inscrutable.  "  We 
shall  be  able  to  judge  how  the  thing  works."  And  then 


348  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

he  put  the  letter  back  in  the  envelope,  and  begged  Ruth 
to  give  them  a  song. 

Mr.  Chaytor  went  up  to  town  the  next  morning,  and 
Ruth  spent  the  day  at  the  Garden  House.  She  came 
again  the  next  morning  to  tell  Maureen  that  it  was  quite 
settled,  and  Mrs.  Holden  was  to  come  to  Marsh  Hall 
directly  after  Christmas. 

"  Romney  was  very  much  impressed  by  her,"  she 
went  on.  "  He  says  her  manners  are  so  very  pleasing. 
She  is  not  handsome,  but  she  has  a  nice  expression,  and 
she  is  well  read  and  intelligent,  and  very  musical." 

"  It  certainly  sounds  very  satisfactory,  Ruth." 

"  Yes.  And  of  course  I  know  I  can  trust  Miss  Bry- 
don's  and  Romney's  judgment.  So  I  will  try  to  like 
her  and  make  her  happy.  After  all,"  here  Ruth  bright- 
ened up,  "  Mrs.  Holden  will  probably  only  remain  with 
us  a  few  months,  so,  as  Romney  says,  I  am  to  consider 
it  a  visit."  And  this  view  of  the  case  seemed  to  give 
her  a  certain  amount  of  consolation. 

Margaret  had  asked  Maureen  not  to  meet  her  at 
the  station  on  the  day  of  her  return.  "  I  want  to  walk 
into  the  Garden  House  in  ordinary  everyday  fashion," 
she  wrote.  And  Maureen  quite  understood  what  she 
meant. 

So  when  Margaret  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  Gar- 
den House  she  only  found  Maureen  and  Master  waiting 
for  her. 

"  Why,  where  are  the  little  girls  ? "  she  asked,  in 
surprise.  Then  Maureen  explained  that  Mr.  Chaytor 
had  gone  up  to  town  on  business,  and  that  Ruth  had 
carried  them  off  to  spend  the  day  with  her. 

"  I  thought  you  would  not  mind,  Aunt  Maggie,"  she 
continued.  "  She  is  going  to  send  them  home  by  nine 
o'clock."  But  Maureen  coloured  a  little,  for  she  saw 
from  Margaret's  expression  that  she  quite  understood 
why  the  invitation  had  been  given. 

Maureen  felt  she  had  done  the  right  thing  when 
she  saw  how  tired  and  worn  Margaret  looked.  And  she 


"A  Happy  New  Year,  Dearest!"     349 

had  her  reward  when  she  heard  her  say,  in  her  old 
affectionate  way,  "After  all,  it  is  nice  and  cosy  to  be 
together,  just  by  our  two  selves." 

Margaret  gave  her  all  the  home  news  as  they  took 
their  tea.  They  were  all  well  and  cheerful,  and  delighted 
to  think  that  Maureen  would  be  with  them  at  Christmas. 

"  And  Harold  ?  "  asked  Maureen,  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  included  Harold," 
returned  her  aunt.  "  He  is  not  looking  so  well  and  fit 
as  usual.  He  is  thin,  and  rather  grave  and  silent." 

"Did  you  talk  to  him,  Aunt  Maggie?" 

"  Do  you  mean  in  a  confidential  way  ?  No,  my  dear ; 
he  would  not  have  liked  it;  he  certainly  gave  me  no 
opportunity  for  doing  so." 

"  I  thought  you  might  have  cheered  him  up."  Maureen 
spoke  in  rather  a  distressed  tone,  for  Harold's  trouble 
was  never  absent  from  her  mind. 

"  I  would  willingly  have  done  my  best  if  the  dear 
boy  had  given  me  the  least  opening,  but  you  cannot  force 
a  man's  confidence.  Harold  knows  quite  well  that  I 
am  not  blind,  and  that  I  would  do  anything  to  help  him. 
He  was  very  nice  to  me — very  affectionate  and  thought- 
ful, and  very  much  averse  to  anything  like  a  tete-a-tete." 
And  this  was  so  like  Entre-nous  that  Maureen  sighed 
afresh. 

When  all  Maureen's  questions  had  been  answered, 
Margaret  gave  her  further  particulars  of  Mrs.  Holden. 

"  She  really  is  a  most  interesting  person,"  she  went 
on.  "  I  may  as  well  confess,  Maureen,  that  I  have  taken 
a  great  fancy  to  her.  I  mean  to  tell  Ruth  that,  for  the 
future,  my  visits  will  be  as  much  to  Mrs.  Holden  as  to 
her  little  self.  Can't  you  imagine  Ruth's  reproachful  look 
when  she  hears  this  speech  ?  " 

"  Is  she  really  so  very  nice,  Aunt  Margaret  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  she  is  genuine ;  and  there  is  no  pretension 
about  her,  and  she  bears  her  troubles  like  a  brave  and 
Christian  woman.  Her  manner,  too,  is  very  sweet  and 


350  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

restful,  and  I  shall  not  be  the  least  surprised  if  Ruth 
learns  to  love  her  before  many  weeks  are  out.  Just  fancy, 
Maureen,  her  name  is  Dolores ;  is  that  not  appropriate 
for  a  widow?  Poor  thing,  she  was  devoted  to  her 
husband." 

If  Margaret  were  talking  for  Maureen's  benefit,  no 
one  would  have  guessed  it,  her  manner  was  so  natural. 
And  when  the  Tweenies  returned  and  knelt  at  each  side 
of  her,  as  they  described  their  day's  pleasure  and  dis- 
played some  little  gifts  that  Ruth  had  made  them,  it 
was  pleasant  to  see  her  loving  interest  in  the  young 
creatures. 

"  Dear  Aunt  Peggy  has  been  so  sweet  to-night,"  Lois 
said  as  the  three  girls  went  upstairs  together.  And  yet 
all  the  evening  the  thought  of  that  Old  Grey  House  in 
its  emptiness  and  that  grave  in  the  churchyard  had  lain 
heavily  on  Margaret's  heart. 

After  all,  in  spite  of  one  or  two  drawbacks, 
Maureen's  Christmas  was  a  very  happy  one;  and  the 
sight  of  the  breakfast-table,  loaded  with  gifts  and  cards 
when  they  returned  from  the  early  service,  gave  her 
the  old  childlike  pleasure.  No  one  had  forgotten  her. 
Margaret's  case  of  ebony  brushes,  with  her  initial  in 
silver,  made  her  exclaim  with  pleasure.  But  she  was 
rather  embarrassed  when  she  opened  Ruth's. 

"  Oh,  it  is  far,  far  too  good,"  she  murmured,  "  and  I 
have  only  given  her  such  a  trifle."  Then  Harold  looked 
at  it  silently.  It  was  a  gold  necklet,  evidently  of  foreign 
workmanship,  with  a  little  pendant  set  in  pearls, -and 
was  wonderfully  light  and  dainty.  A  note  was  folded 
in  the  case. 

"  Don't  think  me  extravagant,  dear  Maureen,"  Ruth  had 
written.  "  I  have  had  the  necklet  for  some  time.  I  thought 
you  would  not  value  it  less  because  I  have  worn  it  once  or 
twice.  I  thought  it  very  pretty  when  it  was  given  to  me,  but 
I  have  more  jewellery  than  I  know  how  to  use.  So  take  it, 
dear,  as  my  Christmas  gift;  I  shall  love  you  to  have  it." 


"A  Happy  New  Year,  Dearest!"     351 

"  It  was  her  own ;  she  has  not  bought  it,"  explained 
Maureen,  when  she  found  herself  alone  with  Harold. 
"  It  is  the  loveliest  thing  I  ever  saw  in  my  life,  and  far 
too  good  for  the  like  of  me.  But  even  mother  says  I 
must  keep  it." 

"  Of  course  you  must  keep  it,"  rather  indignantly. 
"  How  could  you  hurt  her  feelings  by  returning  it? 
She  does  not  care  for  jewellery,  she  told  me  so  one 
day.  I  believe,"  touching  the  pendant  abstractedly,  "  that 
Chaytor  gave  it  to  her,  and  that  he  bought  it  at  Florence." 

"  Oh,  Harold,  impossible !  "  and  Maureen  flushed  at 
the  mere  idea.  "  Ruth  would  never  part  with  her 
brother's  gift." 

"  You  will  find  out  I  am  right,"  he  returned.  "  Very 
likely  she  consulted  him,  and  he  suggested  the  necklet 
himself."  And  Maureen  afterwards  discovered  that 
Harold's  intuition  had  been  correct. 

Romney  Chaytor  had  found  Ruth  looking  over  her 
treasures.  "  I  do  so  want  to  find  something  really  nice 
for  Maureen,"  she  had  said  to  him.  "  I  have  so  much 
more  than  I  want,  and  the  Brydon  girls  have  hardly 
any  ornaments.  Why,  Sybil  and  Lois  were  simply  over- 
joyed when  I  gave  them  those  Venetian  beads.  They 
are  pretty  enough,  but  you  know  how  little  we  gave  for 
them."  Then,  after  a  moment's  consideration,  Romney 
had  pointed  to  the  necklet. 

"  I  think  that  will  suit  Miss  Brydon,"  he  said,  curtly. 
And  though  Ruth  had  demurred  a  little  at  parting  with 
it,  because  it  was  his  gift,  he  soon  brought  her  round 
to  his  way  of  thinking. 

It  was  evident  to  Maureen  that  Harold  was  much 
pleased  with  Ruth's  generosity,  and  he  owned  that  he 
had  sent  her  a  book  he  knew  she  wanted  to  read. 

"  At  Christmas  one  generally  remembers  one's 
friends,  and  I  thought  there  could  be  no  harm  in  my 
doing  that,"  he  observed,  in  an  offhand  manner.  But 
Maureen  never  saw  the  pretty  note  Ruth  wrote  to  thank 


352  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

him;  it  was  far  too  precious  a  possession  to  be  shared 
with  any  one. 

Maureen  had  very  little  talk  with  him  during  the 
week.  "  Aunt  Margaret  was  right,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  Harold  certainly  looked  tired  and  worn,  and  his  gravity 
made  him  older  than  his  age.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  see 
him  happy  and  like  himself !  "  she  sighed. 

On  New  Year's  Day  Maureen  went  back  to  Branks- 
mere.  When  the  omnibus  put  her  down  at  the  Garden 
House  Margaret  was  at  the  open  door  to  receive  her, 
and  a  pleasant  glow  from  the  hall  fire  met  the  girl's 
eyes.  How  warm  and  homelike  it  looked. 

"  A  Happy  New  Year  to  you,  dearest !  "  observed 
Margaret's  cheerful  voice.  "  I  wished  it  you  directly  I 
woke  this  morning.  How  cold  it  is!  Giles  says  the 
air  is  full  of  snow.  Come  into  the  dining-room.  It  is 
warmer  there,  and  Rhoda  shall  bring  us  some  tea." 
But  before  Maureen  took  her  accustomed  seat  she  knelt 
down  to  caress  Tobias,  who  was  sleeping  on  the 
hearthrug. 

"  I  think  he  means  to  take  up  his  quarters  here," 
observed  Margaret,  in  a  low  voice ;  "  and  Master  intends 
to  behave  like  a  gentleman.  Poor  Joanna's  feelings  will 
be  sadly  hurt,  I  am  afraid.  But  we  shall  have  to  find 
her  another  companion." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  for  you  to  have  him,"  returned 
Maureen.  Tobias  was  purring  a  grateful  response,  as 
she  stroked  his  fur;  but  all  the  time  her  eyes  were  fixed 
on  Margaret.  "What  had  she  done  to  herself?"  she 
wondered.  She  seemed  different,  somehow.  A  little 
older,  and  perhaps  a  trifle  thinner,  and  more  subdued ; 
but  she  had  never  seen  her  look  so  nice.  The  severity 
of  the  long  black  dress  that  she  had  worn  ever  since 
the  funeral  was  softened  by  a  white  muslin  fichu,  and 
just  above  it,  suspended  from  a  thin  gold  chain  which 
had  belonged  to  her  mother,  there  hung  the  gold  cross 
that  had  been  Henry  Torrance's  last  gift  to  his  Lady  of 
Dreams.  Margaret,  who  made  her  own  laws,  had  hit 


"A  Happy  New  Year,  Dearest!"     353 

on  a  style  that  suited  her  exactly.  It  was  quaint  and 
picturesque,  and  she  had  never  looked  more  graceful. 
But  it  was  not  her  dress  that  struck  Maureen  most. 
For  in  the  soft  brown  eyes  there  was  a  new  depth  and 
meaning,  as  though  her  seven  days'  solitary  tryst  had 
taught  her  much. 

The  counsel  of  perfection  is  not  easy  to  master,  and, 
doubtless,  Margaret's  thoughts  had  been  sad  enough  at 
times,  before  she  could  bring  herself  to  face  her  future 
life.  But  as  she  stood  there,  looking  down  at  Maureen 
and  the  sleepy  cat,  there  was  a  quiet  cheerfulness  in  her 
manner  that  would  have  rejoiced  Anna  if  she  could  have 
seen  her  that  moment. 

Later  in  the  evening  she  said  to  Maureen,  "  I  have 
been  thinking,  the  last  day  or  two,  a  good  deal  about 
that  money,  Maureen.  I  have  plenty  for  myself  and 
you,  and  I  do  not  need  it,  so  I  mean  to  help  your  father 
with  the  boys."  And  as  Maureen  laid  down  her  work, 
Margaret  went  on. 

"  Qive's  expenses  at  Oxford  are  a  great  pull  on  my 
poor  Daniel's  pocket.  He  confessed  to  me,  not  long  ago, 
that  he  never  intended  Clive  to  go  to  the  university,  and 
that  it  crippled  him  sadly.  I  know  Henry  would  wish 
me  to  do  what  I  thought  best  with  the  legacy,  so  I  am 
going  to  tell  your  father  that  I  will  be  responsible  for 
dive's  expenses." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Margaret,  how  good  you  are !  " 

"  Do  you  call  that  goodness,"  returned  Margaret, 
with  a  low  laugh,  "  to  help  those  we  love  best?  Oh,  the 
joy  of  giving.  Why,  it  is  one  of  life's  greatest  blessings. 
I  do  feel  so  grateful  to  Henry  Torrance  for  giving  me 
this  pleasure." 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  returned  Maureen,  gently ; 
"  and  father  is  so  much  to  you." 

"  He  is  my  dearest  on  the  earth ;  why  should  I  not 
try  to  smooth  the  rough  places  for  him?  He  works 
so  hard,  Maureen,  and  he  is  so  patient  and  uncomplain- 

23 


354  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

ing.  You  are  very  fond  of  your  father,  dear;  but  even 
you  do  not  know  how  good  he  is." 

"  No,  Aunt  Maggie ;  I  daresay  you  are  right.  You 
have  known  him  so  many  years  longer." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Margaret ;  and  her  eyes  were  shining 
with  a  happy  look  of  remembrance.  "  When  I  was  a 
young  thing,  in  my  earliest  teens,  I  once  told  my  mother 
that  she  and  my  father  ought  to  have  called  him 
Nathaniel ;  '  for  if  any  one  is  without  guile  it  is  Dan.' 
Dear  me,  I  can  hear  myself  say  that  now."  A  moment 
later,  Margaret  returned  to  the  subject. 

"  Then  there  is  Ninian.  What  do  you  suppose  they 
are  going  to  do  with  that  big,  overgrown,  fairhaired 
baby?  Put  him  in  some  city  office,  when  he  has  con- 
fessed to  his  mother  and  me  that  he  hated  the  very  idea ! 
'  Poor  Ninny/  I  said  to  her,  '  it  seems  hard  that  he 
cannot  have  a  voice  in  the  matter,  for  he  has  only  one 
life,  and  if  that  is  spoiled  for  him.'  But  she  only  shook 
her  head." 

"  I  know  mother  is  troubled  about  Ninian,"  replied 
Maureen.  "  He  is  not  clever  like  Harold  and  Clive, 
and  he  does  so  want  to  learn  farming.  Any  out-of-door 
employment  would  satisfy  him — tea  or  coffee-planting, 
or  fruit-growing.  Oh,  Harold  and  I  have  often  talked 
about  it." 

"  Then,  why  not  send  him  to  an  agricultural  college, 
and  see  how  he  gets  on?  He  will  be  seventeen  in  April, 
and  he  has  been  at  St.  Paul's  long  enough.  I  think," 
continued  Margaret,  thoughtfully,  "  that  I  shall  ask  your 
father  to  come  down  for  a  week-end,  and  have  a  talk 
with  me.  I  want  to  begin  the  new  year  well."  And 
she  looked  at  Maureen  with  a  smile. 


XXXIX 

*I   AM   TRYING   TO  LEARN   IT" 

The  happy  look  at  things  on  their  own  level ;  the  sorrow- 
ful look  up;  our  thoughts  settle  where  our  hope  is  fixed. — 
ANON. 

If  our  hearts  do  but  keep  fresh  we  may  still  love  those  who  are 
gone,  and  may  still  find  happiness  in  loving  them. — JULIUS  HARE. 

A  lantern  in  the  hand  is  worth  a  dozen  stars.  Be  a  lantern, 
then,  with  all  your  might. — E.  M.  BAKER. 

MARGARET  had  told  Maureen  that  Mrs.  Holden  had 
been  three  or  four  days  at  Marsh  Hall. 

"  Ruth  followed  me  out  of  church  on  Sunday,"  she 
observed,  "  and  walked  a  few  steps  with  me.  She  seems 
very  much  prepossessed  with  her  new  chaperon.  '  She 
could  not  be  nicer.  She  is  so  kind  and  thoughtful  for 
our  comfort,  and  so  anxious  not  to  be  in  our  way.  Oh, 
I  am  sure  I  shall  get  on  with  her.'  You  may  imagine 
how  glad  I  was  to  hear  Ruth  say  this." 

The  next  morning,  as  they  sat  at  breakfast,  Margaret 
proposed,  if  the  snow  kept  off,  that  they  should  walk 
over  to  Marsh  Hall  in  the  afternoon,  and  Maureen,  who 
was  very  curious  to  see  the  newcomer,  joyfully  agreed 
to  this. 

It  was  certainly  not  a  pleasant  afternoon,  and  the 
marsh  looked  bleak  and  desolate  with  its  black  dykes 
and  gaping  ditches,  and  the  wind  hustled  them  most 
unmercifully  as  they  crossed  the  drawbridge  and  made 
their  way  up  the  drive ;  but  the  morning-room  looked 
warm  and  cosy.  Ruth  threw  down  her  book  with  a 
pleased  exclamation  when  she  saw  them. 

"  Oh,  you  two  dears !  "  she  cried.  "  Who  would  have 
expected  you  to  come  on  such  an  afternoon?  Romney 
has  been  obliged  to  go  over  to  Felsham,  but  even  he 
owns  it  was  pretty  cold."  And  then  Maureen  was 
introduced  to  Mrs.  Holden,  and  a  pleasant  fireside  circle 
was  formed. 

955 


356  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

Mrs.  Holden  was  rather  an  interesting-looking 
woman,  who  looked  younger  than  her  actual  age.  She 
was  pale,  with  reddish-brown  hair,  and  though  not  in 
conventional  widow's  mourning,  was  dressed  very  simply 
in  black.  Maureen  liked  her  manner,  it  was  so  extremely 
gentle,  and  she  was  evidently  tactful  and  amiable.  When 
she  asked  how  she  liked  the  Marsh,  she  smiled  pleasantly 
and  replied  that  it  was  hardly  possible  to  judge  of  a 
place  in  such  inclement  weather;  but  that,  no  doubt,  in 
summer  the  wide  outlook  would  have  its  attractions. 
"  Perhaps  the  Devonshire  lanes  of  my  young  days  are 
more  to  my  taste,"  she  added,  frankly. 

"  It  is  hardly  fair  to  ask  her  such  a  question,"  inter- 
posed Ruth.  "  Mrs.  Holden  has  lived  so  long  in  India, 
that  this  wind-blown  old  marsh  must  seem  terribly  dreary 
to  her."  But  though  Mrs.  Holden  could  not  truthfully 
deny  this,  she  hastened  to  amend  the  statement  by  saying 
that  the  walls  of  Marsh  Hall  were  so  thick,  and  the  rooms 
so  warm  and  cosy,  that  she  had  hardly  felt  the  cold  at  all. 

By  and  by  Ruth  took  Maureen  into  the  library  to 
see  a  new  picture  that  Romney  had  picked  up.  Mar- 
garet, who  was  talking  to  Mrs.  Holden,  did  not  seem 
inclined  to  break  off  her  conversation. 

"  Aunt  Margaret  and  Mrs.  Holden  seem  to  have 
taken  a  fancy  to  each  other,"  observed  Maureen,  in  an 
amused  voice.  "  But  she  is  certainly  very  nice." 

"  Oh  yes ;  and  we  both  like  her  so  much.  Romney 
seems  quite  to  enjoy  talking  to  her.  It  is  not  so  bad  as 
I  expected,  Maureen;  and  though  I  am  still  of  my  old 
way  of  thinking,  and  would  rather  be  without  a  chaperon 
at  all,  still  I  think  we  shall  be  very  comfortable  with  Mrs. 
Holden." 

They  looked  at  the  picture  after  this,  and  then  Ruth 
asked  after  her  friends  at  the  Homestead — especially 
after  Irene  and  the  Tweenies. 

"  I  suppose  your  brother  is  not  coming  down  for  a 
week-end,  soon?  Romney  was  asking  the  other  day, 
and  I  could  not  tell  him."  Ruth  spoke  in  a  would-be 
careless  tone. 


"  I  am  Trying  to  Learn  It "          357 

"  No,  I  am  afraid  not,"  returned  Maureen,  a  little 
Sadly.  "  I  tried  to  persuade  him,  but  he  said  he  thought 
it  better  to  stick  to  his  work." 

"  Romney  will  be  sorry."  Something  in  Ruth's  tone 
struck  Maureen,  and  she  glanced  at  her  a  little  sus- 
piciously. Ruth  was  stooping  over  the  table  as  though 
to  examine  the  picture.  Her  face  was  half-hidden  under 
her  falling  hair,  but  one  cheek  was  crimson,  and  the 
hand  resting  on  the  frame  trembled  slightly.  Then  like 
a  flash  the  truth  came  to  Maureen. 

"  Harold  is  wrong.  She  does  care  for  him,"  she  said 
to  herself.  "  I  thought  so  before,  and  now  I  am  sure 
of  it.  Oh  dear,  what  is  one  to  do  for  them  both!  But 
for  this  horrid  money  they  might  both  be  so  happy." 

There  was  an  awkward  silence;  then  Ruth  said 
abruptly  that  they  must  go  back  to  Miss  Brydon.  She 
was  a  little  pale  and  quiet  during  the  remainder  of  their 
visit,  and  Maureen  knew  that  her  answer  had  inflicted 
disappointment,  but  she  thought  it  better  to  say  nothing. 
Margaret  had  been  too  much  engrossed  with  Mrs. 
Holden  to  notice  anything  different  in  them.  She  was 
evidently  deeply  interested  in  the  young  widow. 

"  I  never  knew  a  name  fit  a  person  more  perfectly," 
she  observed,  as  they  walked  back  in  the  windy  darkness. 
"  Dolores — it  exactly  suits  her."  And  Maureen  assented 
to  this. 

Margaret  had  written  to  her  brother  without  loss  of 
time;  but  Daniel  told  her,  with  much  regret,  that  he 
would  be  obliged  to  defer  his  visit  for  the  present,  as 
a  troublesome  piece  of  business  was  likely  to  detain  him 
for  a  week  or  two.  When  he  came  three  weeks  later, 
he  brought  his  wife  with  him.  Anna  was  very  anxious 
to  know  how  Margaret  really  was;  and  Margaret,  who 
guessed  the  real  purpose  of  her  visit,  was  much  touched 
by  her  sister-in-law's  solicitude. 

"  I  would  not  let  Dan  come  without  me  this  time," 
observed  Anna,  as  she  and  Margaret  sat  by  the  bed- 
room fire.  "  Maureen's  accounts  were  very  cheery,  but 


358  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

I  wanted  to  see  with  my  own  eyes  that  she  was  writing 
the  truth." 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you,  Anna !  and,  as  you  know, 
I  am  delighted  to  have  you.  But  there  is  no  need  for 
you  to  be  anxious  about  me;  I  am  well  and  strong  and 
busier  than  I  have  ever  been  in  my  idle  life." 

"  Dear  Margaret,  you  have  never  been  idle."  Then, 
looking  at  her  wistfully,  "  You  have  not  been  sad  and 
lonely?" 

"  No,  I  have  not  been  lonely,"  returned  Margaret, 
simply.  Then  she  put  her  hand  on  Anna's ;  "  Dear, 
you  must  not  let  me  be  on  your  mind,  unless  " — with 
a  smile — "  you  let  me  lie  there  as  lightly  as  a  roseleaf." 

"  And  as  fragrant,  Margaret  ?  Rose  leaves  are  very 
sweet/' 

"  Yes,  if  you  will ;  one's  memory  should  always  be 
fragrant  to  one's  friends.  Do  you  know,  I  amuse  myself 
with  such  strange  fancies  sometimes?  You  remember, 
Henry  Torrance  used  to  call  me  a  dreamer  of  dreams? 
It  does  no  one  harm,"  she  continued,  in  her  low,  thrilling 
voice ;  "  they  seem  to  embellish  one's  life  as  pictures 
adorn  the  empty  walls  of  one's  room — and  they  keep 
one  young  and  happy." 

"Happy,  dearest?" 

"Yes;  why  not?  Are  we  not  told  to  rejoice  with 
those  that  rejoice — ought  we  not  to  be  glad  with  our 
dear  ones  in  Paradise?  And,  after  all,  life  is  sweet, 
and  I  have  so  many  blessings.  One  has  to  learn  one's 
lesson,  and  then  there  is  the  reward." 

"And  you  are  learning  yours,  Margaret?" 

"  I  am  trying  to  learn  it,  and  you  are  all  helping  me. 
And  I  think  that  in  time  I  shall  be  as  happy  as  even 
you  can  wish.  Why,  I  am  happy  this  moment  at  the 
thought  of  helping  my  dear  Dan."  And  then  she  refused 
to  talk  any  more  about  herself. 

Margaret  had  some  difficulty  in  inducing  Daniel  to 
accede  to  her  generous  offers  on  behalf  of  Clive  and 
Ninian;  but  she  had  won  over  Anna  first,  and  she  came 
nobly  to  her  assistance. 


"  I  am  Trying  to  Learn  It "          359 

"  You  must  not  refuse,  Dan,"  she  said  to  him ;  "  it 
will  make  our  dear  Margaret  so  happy  to  feel  she  is 
helping  us  with  our  boys." 

Then  Daniel  had  given  in — his  wife's  influence  was 
very  strong.  If  Anna  thought  it  right,  he  would  no 
longer  hold  out.  He  was  deeply  grateful — too  much  so 
for  words — but  he  and  Margaret  understood  each  other. 
Daniel  Brydon  went  back  to  town  with  a  lighter  heart. 
Anna  went  with  him.  He  had  offered  to  leave  her 
behind,  but  she  had  been  anxious  to  get  back  to  her  work. 

"  I  will  come  again  later,"  she  said,  when  Maureen 
tried  to  shake  her  resolution. 

Maureen  had  enjoyed  her  parents'  visit  intensely,  but 
she  was  a  little  disappointed  that  her  mother  had  only 
seen  Mr.  Chaytor  in  church,  and  that  there  was  no  oppor- 
tunity for  an  introduction. 

Anna  owned  to  Margaret  that  she  was  much  struck 
with  his  appearance. 

"  I  don't  wonder  Harold  and  Maureen  call  him  the 
Viking,"  she  said.  "  He  certainly  resembles  one  with  his 
strong  rugged  face,  and  sea-blue-eyes — they  are  as  keen 
as  a  hawk's  " ;  which  proved  that  Anna  had  observed 
him  rather  closely. 

The  new  year  was  a  month  old  when  the  Brydons  had 
paid  their  little  visit  to  the  Garden  House,  and  February 
had  set  in  with  unusual  mildness. 

One  afternoon  when  Margaret  was  going  to  the 
Workhouse,  Maureen  announced  her  intention  of  walk- 
ing over  to  Bradley,  a  village  about  two  miles  from 
Branksmere,  to  see  a  crippled  child  who  was  one  of 
Margaret's  protegees.  Maureen  had  been  dressing  a  baby 
doll  for  her,  and  as  it  was  now  complete — equipped  from 
head  to  foot — she  was  anxious  to  carry  it  to  the  invalid. 

Margaret  made  no  objection.  The  afternoon  was 
rather  unseasonably  mild,  though  sunless,  and  the  country 
lanes  were  fairly  dry. 

"  You  had  better  not  stay  long  with  Rosie,"  she 
observed ;  "  for  it  is  quite  dark  soon  after  four  o'clock." 


360  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Oh,  I  shall  have  plenty  of  time,"  returned  Maureen ; 
"  it  is  not  two  yet,  and  I  don't  believe  myself  that  Bradley 
is  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half  from  here,  though  Thora 
and  the  Brant  girls  declare  it  is  two  miles;  and  I  walk 
so  fast.  No,  I  will  not  stay  long  at  the  cottage,  Aunt 
Peggy.  I  must  just  undress  baby  to  show  Rosie  how 
the  things  fasten,  and  then  I  will  make  haste  back." 

Maureen  honestly  meant  to  do  what  she  said,  for  she 
never  liked  Margaret  to  have  a  moment's  uneasiness  on 
her  account.  But  time  passed  quicker  than  she  thought, 
and  when  Rosie's  fumbling  little  fingers  had  been  initiated 
into  all  the  fastenings,  and  the  waxen  baby  lay  dressed 
on  Rosie's  lap,  with  her  blue  eyes  closed  in  sleep, 
Maureen  woke  to  the  fact  that  it  was  a  quarter  to  four, 
and  that  already  the  light  was  fading. 

She  bade  Rosie  good-bye  and  set  off  almost  at  a  run. 
She  was  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  being  alone  in  the 
lanes  after  dark.  The  few  tramps  who  wished  to  make 
their  way  to  the  Workhouse  were  generally  to  be  met 
on  the  main  roads.  Her  only  fear  was  that  Margaret 
would  be  anxious  if  she  did  not  turn  up  by  tea-time. 

"  Well,  it  is  no  good  worrying,"  she  thought, 
philosophically.  "  I  certainly  cannot  walk  two  miles,  or 
even  a  mile  and  a  half,  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  so  it 
is  no  use  getting  breathless  over  it.  Even  if  it  is  dark 
I  know  I  can  find  my  way;  if  only  it  does  not  begin  to 
rain — Giles  said  it  would  before  night.  Well,  well,  what 
can't  be  cured  must  be  endured."  And  Maureen  trudged 
on. 

At  that  moment  a  whizzing  sound  just  behind  her, 
and  the  tooting  of  a  motor,  startled  her  in  earnest.  She 
sprang  back,  but  either  a  stone  tripped  her  up  in  the 
darkness,  or  else — and  this  was  probably  the  case — the 
motor  caught  her  as  it  passed  and  threw  her  down.  But 
for  the  time  she  was  too  much  stunned  to  know  what 
had  happened. 

A  sudden  flashing  in  her  eyes  seemed  to  rouse  her, 
but  she  was  too  much  dazed  to  recover  her  full  con- 


"  I  am  Trying  to  Learn  It "          361 

seriousness.  She  was  aware  that  some  one  was  holding 
her  very  firmly,  and  that  a  voice  that  somehow  seemed 
familiar  was  speaking  to  her.  "  Good  heavens !  Maureen, 
do  try  and  answer  me.  Tell  me  where  you  are  hurt, 
dear  child.  I  don't  believe  die  car  went  over  you." 
Mr.  Chaytor  spoke  in  a  tone  of  such  intense  anxiety  that 
Maureen  instinctively  tried  to  collect  her  scattered  facul- 
ties. She  opened  her  eyes  and  found  the  blinding  light 
was  from  the  motor  lamps.  As  she  endeavoured  to  move, 
Mr.  Chaytor's  arm  restrained  her. 

"  No ;  keep  still  a  moment  until  you  are  better ;  only 
try  and  answer  my  question,  dear."  Then  Maureen 
strove  to  obey. 

"  I  think,"  she  returned,  rather  faintly,  "  that  it  only 
knocked  me  down ;  but  my  head  hurts  me,  and  makes 
me  so  confused.  Oh  " — moving  restlessly,  as  though 
resenting  her  weakness — "  please  do  not  trouble  so ;  it 
was  not  your  fault,  but  my  own  stupidity.  Indeed,  I 
am  better  now ;  I  think  I  can  stand  if  you  would  let 
me." 

"  No ;  be  quiet,"  he  returned,  rather  peremptorily. 
"  There  is  no  hurry ;  the  rug  is  under  you,  and  you  will 
not  take  cold ;  and  your  voice  tells  me  you  are  still  faint. 
I  wish  I  had  some  brandy  with  me ;  but  you  will  be  better 
soon."  Then  with  a  touch  that  was  almost  as  light  and 
tender  as  a  woman's,  he  put  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 
Her  hat  had  fallen  off,  and  her  hair  was  her  sole  covering. 

Maureen's  head  was  aching  sorely,  but  she  felt 
strangely  content  and  composed.  She  had  been  near 
death,  she  knew  that,  and  it  was  a  miracle  that  she  had 
escaped ;  but  she  could  not  collect  her  thoughts.  Her 
"  Thank  God ! "  was  unconsciously  uttered  above  her 
breath. 

"  Thank  God,  indeed ! "  returned  Mr.  Chaytor, 
solemnly.  "  Now,  Maureen,  if  you  really  think  you  can 
stand,  I  will  help  you  up."  Then  as  he  lifted  her  to  her 
feet,  she  still  clung  to  him. 

"  It  is  my  head  that  hurts  so,  and  makes  me  giddy." 


362  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

But  his  only  answer  was  to  help  her  into  the  motor ;  then 
he  wrapped  the  rug  round  her,  and  placed  himself  beside 
her. 

"  You  will  be  home  in  less  than  ten  minutes,"  he 
said,  trying  to  speak  cheerfully.  "  The  hat  is  done  for, 
I  am  afraid ;  but  I  am  going  to  tie  this  silk  handkerchief 
over  your  poor  head."  But  he  noticed  that  though  he 
scarcely  touched  her,  she  winced  as  though  he  hurt  her. 

To  Maureen  those  few  minutes  seemed  endless.  As 
they  started,  Mr.  Chaytor  had  told  her  rather  abruptly 
that  she  had  better  take  his  arm.  "  I  want  my  hands 
free  for  steering,"  he  observed ;  "  but  you  need  support." 
And  Maureen  needed  it  so  badly  that  she  was  obliged  to 
do  as  he  told  her. 

Margaret,  who  was  dreaming  by  the  dining-room 
fire,  had  not  heard  the  motor  stop,  and  she  started  up 
aghast  as  Mr.  Chaytor  limped  into  the  room  with  the 
dishevelled  little  figure  on  his  arm.  Maureen's  strange 
head-gear,  her  pallid  face,  and  pained  expression,  filled 
Margaret  with  alarm. 

"  Oh,  darling,  what  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself !  " 
she  exclaimed,  as  she  took  the  girl  in  her  arms.  Then 
Mr.  Chaytor  gave  an  odd  little  laugh. 

"  Let  her  sit  down,  Miss  Brydon.  And  you  had  better 
give  her  something,  for  she  is  a  little  faint,  and  I  will 
tell  you  about  it  by  and  by.  A  cup  of  tea" — with  a 
glance  at  the  table — "  perhaps  that  may  warm  her."  And 
then  without  a  single  question  Margaret  quietly  made 
the  girl  comfortable,  pillows  were  fetched,  and  the  heavy 
braids  of  hair  loosened. 

"How  did  it  happen?"  she  asked  at  last,  when  she 
had  done  all  she  could  for  Maureen.  "  She  has  had 
some  knock,  for  there  is  a  lump  at  the  back  of  her  head, 
and  she  cannot  bear  it  touched." 

"  I  will  tell  you  as  well  as  I  can,"  returned  Mr. 
Chaytor ;  "  and  then  I  think  I  had  better  ask  Dr.  Carter 
to  have  a  look  at  her  head.  I  don't  think  there  is  any 
other  damage."  And  then  he  briefly  explained  the 
matter. 


"  I  am  Trying  to  Learn  It "          363 

He  was  motoring  from  Bradley  at  a  moderate  speed, 
and  had  just  turned  into  that  narrow  lane  not  far  from 
Leven's  Corner,  when  some  dark  object  suddenly  seemed 
to  fall  underneath  the  car.  "  I  stopped  instantly — of 
course  I  knew  I  had  not  run  over  anything;  but  just 
there  the  road  is  so  narrow  that  there  is  only  room  to 
pass.  As  I  got  down  I  saw  it  was  a  woman !  her  dress 
had  evidently  been  caught  on  the  wheel,  and  she  had  been 
knocked  down ;  she  had  probably  not  heard  the  horn. 
I  need  not  say  how  shocked  I  was  when  I  found  it  was 
your  niece." 

Margaret  had  turned  very  pale.  "  Mr.  Chaytor,"  she 
said,  almost  under  her  breath,  "  the  child  might  have 
been  killed." 

"  I  know  it,"  he  answered,  in  a  low  tone,  for  neither 
of  them  wished  Maureen  to  hear.  "  Another  inch  or 
two,  and  only  a  miracle  could  have  saved  her."  He 
spoke  in  a  voice  so  full  of  suppressed  emotion  that 
Margaret  did  not  venture  to  ask  more.  She  only  held 
out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  You  must  not  blame  yourself,"  she  said  gently ; 
and  then  Maureen's  voice  chimed  in  unexpectedly. 

"  It  was  my  fault,  Aunt  Maggie,  not  Mr.  Chaytor's ; 
I  stayed  too  long  with  Rosie,  and  it  was  so  dark  in  the 
lanes.  I  was  thinking  about  something,  and  never 
heard  anything  until  the  motor  was  nearly  on  me,  and 
then  I  tried  to  jump  back.  He  is  right — the  car  must 
have  caught  me  and  thrown  me  down  " ;  and  Maureen 
pointed  to  the  jagged  tear  in  her  skirt. 

Margaret  knelt  down  beside  her  and  laid  her  cheek 
against  the  girl's  hair.  "Hushl  dearest,"  she  whisp- 
ered ;  "  you  had  better  not  talk,  or  your  poor  head 
will  suffer.  Thank  God,  my  little  Maureen,  that  He  has 
spared  you  to  me — that  I  have  not  lost  you,  too."  And 
Margaret's  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  The  next  minute 
the  sound  of  the  closing  door  told  her  that  Mr.  Chaytor 
had  gone  in  search  of  the  doctor. 


Love  does  not  spring  up  and  grow  great  and  become  perfect 
all  at  once,  but  requires  time  and  the  nourishment  of  thoughts. — 
DANTE. 

Silence  is  the  perfectest  herald  of  joy;  I  were  but  little 
happy,  if  I  could  say  how  much. — SHAKESPEARE. 

MR.  CHAYTOR  brought  the  doctor,  and  then  went  on 
to  Marsh  Hall;  but  he  came  again  later  in  the  evening. 
To  Margaret's  surprise,  Ruth  was  with  him;  in  her 
furs  and  little  scarlet  hood  she  looked  prettier  than 
ever. 

"  I  made  Romney  bring  me,"  she  said,  breathlessly. 
"  I  wanted  so  badly  to  hear  how  dear  Maureen  is." 

Then  Margaret,  who  looked  a  little  pale  and  tired 
from  the  excitement,  gave  them  a  cheery  report. 

"  Dr.  Carter  says  there  are  no  other  injuries.  He 
thinks  there  must  have  been  slight  concussion,  though 
it  soon  passed  off.  Her  head  is  badly  contused,  and  one 
of  her  arms,  poor  dear,  is  black  and  blue.  But  he  says 
she  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  days." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad ! "  exclaimed  Ruth.  "  May  I 
just  run  in  and  see  her,  dear  Miss  Brydon?" 

"  If  you  will  promise  not  to  stay  a  minute ;  but 
there  must  be  no  talking,  mind.  Dr.  Carter  wishes  her 
to  be  kept  quiet.  He  is  sending  a  composing  draught, 
so  that  she  may  get  some  sleep.  I  am  afraid  her  head 
pains  her  a  good  deal." 

Mr.  Chaytor  said  little  in  reply  to  this,  and  Margaret 
went  on: 

"  It  is  such  a  blessing  that  Maureen  is  so  strong. 
I  do  not  believe  that  she  has  spent  a  day  in  bed  for 
years,  and,  as  it  is,  Dr.  Carter  has  been  obliged  to 
promise  her  that  she  shall  get  up  as  soon  as  possible. 

364 


"  A  Hope  for  Me  and  a  Hope  for  You  "  365 

The  child  takes  after  me.  We  have  that  rare  blessing 
— good  health  and  a  sound  constitution." 

Ruth  kept  her  promise  loyally,  for  she  re-entered 
soon  after  Margaret  said  this. 

"  I  would  not  let  her  say  a  word,"  she  observed.  "  I 
just  kissed  her  and  crept  away.  But,  oh  dear!  I  never 
saw  Maureen  look  pale  before.  I  am  so  glad  you  let 
me  see  her,  for  there  is  no  chance  of  my  coming  to- 
morrow. Mrs.  Holden  and  I  are  going  over  to  Felsham 
for  the  day." 

"  Miss  Brydon  is  tired,  Ruth,"  observed  Romney, 
rather  abruptly,  and  he  insisted  on  carrying  her  off. 

Margaret  was  not  sorry  that  the  visit  was  a  brief 
one,  for  she  wanted  to  return  to  Maureen.  Mr.  Chaytor 
had  not  seemed  like  himself. 

"  I  am  afraid  he  is  very  much  upset  about  the  whole 
thing,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  went  upstairs  slowly. 
Margaret  was  learning  her  lesson  of  patience,  but  the 
old  springy  step  had  not  yet  returned. 

Maureen  had  been  quite  indignant  at  the  idea  of 
spending  a  few  hours  in  bed,  but  she  changed  her  mind 
when  the  morning  came.  Her  head  was  better  for  the 
night's  rest,  but  her  arm  and  shoulder  were  painful.  It 
was  pleasant,  after  all,  to  lie  there  in  the  February  sun- 
shine, with  Margaret  to  wait  on  her. 

In  quiet  intervals,  when  she  was  left  alone,  she 
pondered  over  her  merciful  escape  with  intense  grati- 
tude. "  I  might  have  been  hurried  into  eternity  like  poor 
Mr.  Torrance,"  she  thought;  "or,  worse  still,  injured 
in  some  terrible  way."  Then  when  these  reflections 
proved  too  agitating,  she  dwelt  on  Mr.  Chaytor's 
kindness. 

"  Aunt  Maggie,"  she  said  once,  "  do  you  think  I  look 
younger  than  my  age?  You  know  I  shall  be  one-and- 
twenty  in  April." 

Margaret  thought  for  a  moment  before  she  answered 
this  question. 

"  I  think  that  people  who  did  not  know  your  exact 


366  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

age  might  take  you  to  be  only  eighteen  or  nineteen," 
she  returned,  wondering  a  little  what  was  in  the  girl's 
mind.  But  Maureen  seemed  quite  satisfied. 

"  That  must  be  it,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  Eighteen 
or  nineteen  would  seem  very  young  to  a  man  of  his 
age.  I  should  be  almost  a  child  in  his  eyes,  and  that 
is  why  he  called  me  dear.  Besides,  he  was  so  sorry 
to  think  that  I  was  hurt,  and  that  he  might  have  killed 
me.  No,  I  won't  think  of  it  any  more."  But  in  spite 
of  this  sensible  resolution  she  thought  of  little  else. 

The  next  time  Ruth  came  to  see  her,  she  brought 
some  lovely  flowers. 

"  Romney  has  sent  you  these  with  his  kindest 
regards,"  she  said.  But  she  certainly  could  not  com- 
plain of  Maureen's  paleness  at  that  moment,  for  the 
girl  had  flushed  to  the  roots  of  her  hair  with  surprise 
and  pleasure. 

"  They  are  very  beautiful,"  she  murmured,  as  she 
inhaled  their  sweetness. 

"  Romney  wired  to  town  for  them,"  returned  Ruth, 
composedly.  "  Don't  you  love  lilies  of  the  valley,  Mau- 
reen, and  those  lovely  Neapolitan  violets?  Will  you 
let  me  arrange  them  for  you?  The  bowl  and  that  high 
vase  will  just  do."  Then  Maureen  nodded,  and  lay  back 
on  her  pillows  watching  Ruth's  skilful  manipulation 
as  she  filled  the  bowl,  keeping  back  two  or  three  sprays 
of  the  lilies  for  Maureen  to  wear  when  she  dressed  for 
the  day. 

The  flowers  sweetened  the  hours  for  Maureen,  and 
she  forgot  her  bruises  as  she  looked  at  them.  She 
knew  Margaret  would  share  her  pleasure. 

"  I  suppose  the  flowers  of  Paradise  will  be  far  more 
beautiful  than  these,"  observed  Margaret,  as  she  looked 
at  the  bowl  of  lilies  and  violets  with  worshipping  eyes; 
"but  it  is  a  little  difficult  to  believe  it.  Only  they  are 
fadeless,  and  these  dear  lilies  will  not  last." 

Margaret  had  given  an  account  of  Maureen's  acci- 
dent to  her  brother,  but  she  had  carefully  softened  the 


"  A  Hope  for  Me  and  a  Hope  for  You  "  367 

details.  Maureen  had  added  a  little  note,  though  she 
wrote  it  with  some  difficulty.  But  a  perfect  shoal  of 
congratulatory  notes  greeted  Maureen's  waking  eyes 
the  next  morning.  Daniel  had  written  to  his  little  girl, 
and  enclosed  a  loving  note  from  Anna.  Irene  and 
Harold  and  the  Tweenies  had  all  contributed  to  the 
budget — even  Ninian  and  Ivy  had  sent  copious  messages. 
Maureen  laughed,  but  there  was  a  suspicious  moisture 
in  her  eyes  as  Margaret  showered  the  white-winged 
messages  over  the  eider-down. 

"  Such  a  fuss  over  a  certain  little  girl !  "  she  said 
teasingly,  as  she  left  her  to  peruse  her  letters  in  peace. 

That  afternoon  Maureen  was  so  much  better  that 
she  came  downstairs  earlier  than  usual.  Margaret  was 
obliged  to  leave  her  for  an  hour;  but  she  knew  Maureen 
had  an  interesting  book. 

"  I  shall  come  home  the  moment  the  meeting  is 
over,"  Margaret  said,  as  she  adjusted  the  cushions  in 
her  own  special  chair.  "  Now  you  look  nice  and  cosy, 
and  there  is  no  fear  of  your  being  dull." 

"  No  fear  at  all,"  returned  Maureen,  smiling.  Dull ! 
with  her  book  and  letters,  and  all  those  flowers,  and 
pleasant  thoughts  for  company!  Maureen  could  have 
laughed  aloud  at  the  idea.  She  had  never  felt  happier 
in  her  life.  People  were  so  good  and  kind  to  her.  As 
for  Aunt  Margaret — but  here  a  well-known  sound 
made  her  start  and  change  colour.  She  had  not 
expected  any  one  from  Marsh  Hall  to-day;  but  the 
next  moment  the  halting  step  that  had  grown  so  familiar 
to  her  ears  entered  the  room. 

"  Don't  move,"  as  Maureen  attempted  to  rise.  "  If 
you  disturb  yourself  I  will  go  away  again."  Mr. 
Chaytor's  tone  was  a  little  authoritative  as  he  took  her 
hand.  '"'  Tell  me  how  you  are.  Are  the  bruises  better?  " 

"  My  right  arm  is  still  a  little  painful,  but  my  head 
has  quite  left  off  aching."  Then  as  he  drew  a  chair 
close  to  her,  she  continued  shyly :  "  I  am  so  glad  you 
have  come,  for  I  wanted  to  thank  you  for  your  lovely 


368  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

flowers."  She  saw  him  glance  at  the  spray  of  lilies 
fastened  in  her  bodice,  and  went  on  hurriedly,  "  It  was 
so  kind  of  you  to  send  them." 

"  Kind!  "  his  lip  curling;  "  a  little  attention  like  that 
deserves  no  thanks."  Then  in  a  curiously  abrupt  tone, 
"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself;  you 
look  different  somehow  ?  " 

For  a  moment  Maureen  seemed  bewildered,  then 
she  smiled  in  an  amused  way. 

"  It  must  be  my  hair,"  she  said,  naively.  "  I  cannot 
bear  hairpins  yet,  and  I  am  afraid  the  loose  plait  makes 
me  look  like  a  little  girl  again.  But  Aunt  Margaret 
would  do  it." 

"  She  was  quite  right,  and  I  never  saw  you  look 
nicer."  Mr.  Chaytor  said  this  in  such  a  quiet,  friendly 
tone  that  Maureen  never  even  blushed  at  the  compliment. 

Certainly  the  long,  thick  plait  of  brown  hair,  which 
hung  below  her  waist,  exactly  suited  her,  though  it 
gave  her  an  extremely  youthful  look. 

"  If  you  always  wore  it  like  that,"  he  observed,  "  one 
would  forget  you  were  grown  up."  Then  dropping  his 
light  tone  suddenly — "  Maureen,  did  I  take  too  much 
on  myself  that  afternoon?  I  think  I  hardly  knew  what 
I  was  saying  when  I  lifted  you  up  and  you  could  not 
move  or  speak.  That  horrible  moment  taught  me  one 
thing." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  stammered,  raising  her 
eyes  to  his.  But  the  look  that  met  hers  made  her  avert 
them  again. 

"  I  mean  that  it  taught  me  that  you  were  absolutely 
necessary  to  me — that  I  loved  you  so  much  that  I 
wanted  you  in  my  life  and  home.  Maureen,  if  I  could 
only  feel  that  I  were  equally  necessary  to  your  happi- 
ness, I  should  be  a  joyful  man  to-day." 

He  had  taken  both  her  hands  as  he  spoke,  and  held 
them  firmly.  But  Maureen  was  too  much  dazed  to 
answer.  She  could  not  believe  the  reality  of  the  words 
which  had  reached  her  ears.  It  was  impossible.  He 


"  A  Hope  for  Me  and  a  Hope  for  You  "  369 

was   making   some   great   mistake.      She   must   set   him 
right,  if  she  only  knew  how. 

"  Oh,"  she  gasped,  "  you  are  very  kind,  but  you  do 
not  really  mean  that  ? " 

"  What  do  I  not  mean,  dear  ?  " 

"That  I  am  necessary  to  you;  how  can  I  be?  I 
am  not  even  clever.  Oh,  please,  please  do  not  say  such 
things  unless  they  are  true."  Then  Romney  Chaytor 
gave  a  low  laugh  as  he  took  her  in  his  arms.  If  Mau- 
reen winced  a  little  with  the  pain  of  his  touch,  he  did 
not  know  it,  and  she  was  too  bewildered  with  happiness 
to  mind. 

"  Maureen,"  he  said,  kissing  her,  "  it  is  true — abso- 
lutely true,  and  it  is  you  I  want — only  you.  But  there 
is  something  you  must  tell  me  for  my  comfort.  Can 
you  care  for  a  cripple,  dear?"  Then  Maureen,  utterly 
overwhelmed,  laid  her  face  on  his  shoulder.  How  was 
she  to  speak,  or  even  to  realise  the  wonderful  thing 
that  had  come  to  her?  That  he,  who  had  been  the  hero 
of  her  imagination  ever  since  she  had  heard  his  story, 
whose  infirmities  she  had  regarded  with  the  worship- 
ping pity  a  woman  often  gives  to  a  strong  man  who  is 
heavily  handicapped — that  he,  Romney  Chaytor,  should 
tell  her  in  a  tone  of  unmistakable  sincerity  and  tender- 
ness that  she  was  necessary  to  him,  and  that  he  wanted 
her  in  his  life  and  home.  "  Oh,  how  am  I  to  believe  it 
all  ?  "  she  whispered.  But  he  would  not  spare  her. 

"  Maureen,  this  is  not  fair.  You  have  not  answered 
my  question,"  he  said,  gravely.  "  I  want  to  hear  from 
your  own  lips,  dear  child,  that  you  are  willing  to  marry 
a  big,  hulking  cripple."  Then  Maureen  raised  her 
glowing  face  and  looked  at  him  very  sweetly  and  shyly. 

"  Oh,  please  do  not  call  yourself  names.  What  does 
a  little  lameness  matter?  I  think  I  care  all  the  more 
for  that.  If  I  could  only  help  you  to  forget  it."  Mau- 
reen stammered  out  the  words  with  difficulty,  but  the 
innocent  girlish  secret  was  evident  to  Romney's  keen 
eyes.  Her  heart  belonged  to  him,  and  he  knew  it. 
24 


870  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Thanks,  darling,"  was  all  he  said,  and  for  a  minute 
there  was  silence.  Then  he  replaced  her  gently  on  the 
pillow  again,  and  drew  his  chair  a  little  closer. 

"  Don't  you  think  Ruth  will  be  pleased  when  she 
knows  this  ?  "  he  said  presently.  "  Maureen,  there  is 
something  I  must  tell  you.  I  really  owe  this  happi- 
ness to  your  Aunt  Margaret."  And  as  she  looked  at 
him  inquiringly  he  went  on.  "  I  was  very  morbid  about 
my  lameness,  and  I  put  away  all  thoughts  of  marrying. 
I  will  never  ask  any  woman  to  tie  herself  to  such  a 
lumbering  unwieldy  cripple — that  is  what  I  used  to 
tell  myself.  And  then  Miss  Brydon  talked  to  me  and 
reasoned  with  me  so  sweetly  and  sensibly — assuring 
me  that  the  obstacle  was  only  in  my  own  imagination 
— that  at  last  I  was  convinced.  All  the  more  that  I 
was  learning  to  love  you  even  then,  though  not  as  I 
do  now." 

"  If  I  could  only  understand  it,"  sighed  Maureen. 
But  she  was  far  too  shy  to  speak  out  her  inmost  thought. 
"  What  can  have  made  him  care  ?  "  that  was  what  she 
was  saying  to  herself.  "A  little  brown  thing  like  me, 
not  pretty  or  clever."  But  Romney,  who  could  read 
her  thought,  only  smiled  at  her. 

"Does  one  ever  understand  these  things,  sweetheart? 
You  are  you,  and  I  have  found  my  mate;  that  is  the 
whole  matter."  For  even  Romney  Chaytor  could  not 
have  explained  the  influences  that  had  drawn  him  so 
strongly  to  the  girl.  He  loved  beauty,  had  always  loved 
it ;  and  Maureen  was  not  even  pretty,  though  she  had 
the  charms  of  youth  and  brightness  and  perfect  health. 
But  the  little  brown  face  with  the  sunshiny  smile  and 
white  teeth  had  grown  dearer  to  him  that  any  other. 
He  loved,  too,  her  frankness  and  sincerity,  her  uncon- 
sciousness and  lack  of  vanity,  her  warm  heart  and 
devotion  to  the  objects  of  her  affection.  She  was  not 
perfect  by  any  means,  but  she  had  plenty  of  sweetness 
and  sound  commonsense.  Slowly  he  had  grown  to 
recognise  this,  and  the  more  he  knew  her  the  more  he 


"  A  Hope  for  Me  and  a  Hope  for  You  "  371 

learned  to  appreciate  her.  But  he  had  not  really  realised 
the  strength  of  his  own  feelings  until  he  had  lifted  her 
up  as  she  lay  unconscious  on  the  road. 

The  hour  had  passed  far  more  rapidly  than  they 
knew,  and  the  sound  of  Margaret's  latch-key  startled 
them  both;  and  Romney  pushed  back  his  chair  a  little 
guiltily. 

Margaret  shook  her  head  at  him  as  she  entered  the 
room.  "  You  have  stolen  a  march  on  me,  naughty 
man,"  she  said,  playfully.  "  I  never  meant  Maureen  to 
see  visitors  to-day " — then  she  stopped  suddenly,  as 
though  petrified.  Why  was  Maureen's  face  so  flushed 
and  her  eyes  so  bright?  Why,  the  child  looked  prettier 
than  she  ever  looked  in  her  lifel  Then  she  glanced  at 
Mr.  Chaytor,  but  he  only  reddened  and  laughed. 

"  You  are  not  to  be  hoodwinked,  Miss  Brydon.  My 
dear  lady,  you  cannot  blame  me  for  acting  on  yotir 
advice.  What  were  your  words  to  me? — 'That  it  was 
my  own  fault  if  I  were  lonely.' "  Then  Margaret's 
arms  dropped  to  her  side. 

"  But  I  was  not  thinking  of  Maureen,"  she  said,  a 
little  plaintively. 

"  No ;  but  I  was  thinking  of  her,"  he  returned, 
simply.  Then  he  took  Margaret's  hand  and  kissed  it. 
"  It  is  to  you  I  owe  my  happiness."  But  Margaret 
only  gave  him  a  lovely  smile  and  knelt  down  by 
Maureen. 

"Is  this  true,  little  girl?"  she  whispered.  Then 
Maureen  flung  her  arms  round  her  neck. 

"  Yes,  but  I  can  hardly  believe  even  now.  Oh,  dear 
Aunt  Maggie,  do  you  mind?  Is  it  wrong  of  me  to  be 
so  happy  when  I  shall  be  leaving  you  alone  ? "  She 
said  this  in  such  a  low  voice  that  Romney  could  not 
hear. 

"  Wrong !  when  your  heart  tells  you  the  truth.  Why, 
darling,  how  can  you  ask  me  such  a  question?  It  is  a 
good  and  a  wise  thing  you  are  doing,  and  I  am  glad, 
glad,  glad."  She  took  a  hand  of  each  as  she  spoke, 


372  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

and  her  eyes  were  soft  with  some  beautiful  thought. 
"  Dear  Mr.  Chaytor,  how  thankful  I  am  that  I  said 
that,  though  I  had  forgotten  my  little  Maureen's  exist- 
ence when  I  spoke.  But  I  did  so  long  to  help  you  out 
of  the  Slough  of  Despond.  But  there  is  no  one  to  whom 
I  would  so  willingly  spare  her." 

"  I  shall  not  be  taking  her  away,"  he  returned. 
"  Marsh  Hall  is  not  far  off."  Then  Maureen  blushed, 
and  Margaret  gave  a  low  laugh  of  satisfaction. 

"  No,  I  shall  not  be  lonely.  Oh,  if  you  only  knew 
how  glad — how  truly  glad  I  am  about  this ! "  And 
Margaret's  happy  face  endorsed  her  words.  To  her 
unselfishness  it  was  glorious  news  that  Maureen  should 
enter  into  her  woman's  heritage,  and  that  Romney 
Chaytor's  loneliness  was  over.  "  We  must  rejoice  with 
those  who  do  rejoice,"  she  had  said  to  Anna;  and  she 
was  carrying  out  her  beloved  precept. 

"  What  will  Daniel  and  Anna  say  ? "  was  her  next 
thought  as  she  moved  to  the  tea-table.  Romney 
followed  her. 

"  Maureen  and  I  have  been  talking  over  things,"  he 
observed,  "  and  we  both  agree  that  I  had  better  go  up 
to  town  to-morrow  and  speak  to  her  father.  I  could 
send  a  telegram  to  the  office — I  believe  that  would  be 
the  best  plan.  If  necessary,  I  could  remain  for  the 
night."  And  as  Margaret  highly  approved  of  this,  the 
matter  was  arranged. 

Margaret  would  not  let  him  stay  long  after  this, 
for  she  saw  that  Maureen  was  growing  weary  with 
excitement.  She  left  them  alone  for  a  few  moments, 
but  Romney  did  not  keep  her  long  waiting. 

"  She  is  very  tired,"  he  said,  "  and  I  would  not  talk 
any  more." 

"  Good  man,"  returned  Margaret,  approvingly.  And 
then  she  watched  him  get  into  the  motor. 

An  hour  or  two  later,  as  she  was  wishing  Maureen 
good-night,  the  girl  held  her  tightly  for  a  moment. 

"  You  are  sure  that  I  am  not  selfish,  Aunt  Maggie  ?  " 


"  A  Hope  for  Me  and  a  Hope  for  You  "  373 

"  Quite  sure,  dearest." 

"  And  that  you  will  not  be  lonely  ?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not ;  you  and  Romney  will  be  near 
me.  I  must  call  him  Romney  now  he  is  going  to  be 
my  nephew ;  besides,  I  shall  see  you  every  day.  There, 
we  will  talk  of  all  this  another  time;  you  must  go  to 
sleep  now." 

Then  Maureen  said  a  strange  thing.  "  I  don't  think 
I  want  to  go  to  sleep  to-night.  I  am  so  afraid  of  waking 
up  to-morrow  and  finding  it  all  a  dream."  But 
Margaret  did  not  laugh  at  her. 

"  It  is  a  dream  that  will  last  you  your  life,  little 
girl,"  she  said,  tenderly.  And  then  she  left  her  to  her 
happy  thoughts. 


XLI 

"I  CANNOT   FACE   THE   MUSIC" 

Each  day  that  still  you  love  me  seems  to  me 
A  little  fairer  than  the  day  before; 
For,  daily  given,  Love's  least  must  daily  be 
A  little  more. 

LYTTON. 
The  only  love,  worthy  of  the  name,  ever  and  always  uplifts. — 

MACDONALB. 

IN  spite  of  Margaret's  injunctions  and  her  own  good 
resolutions  k  was  many  hours  before  Maureen  slept 
that  night,  and  it  was  so  late  before  she  woke  that  her 
room  was  quite  flooded  with  the  pale  February  sunshine. 
Some  one,  too,  had  crept  to  her  bedside  unheard  and 
placed  a  note  on  the  little  table  beside  her.  She  had 
only  once  seen  that  handwriting,  and  as  she  looked  at 
it,  behold  yesterday's  dream  had  merged  into  reality. 
The  first  love-letter  that  she  had  ever  received  was  the 
sign  and  token  that  the  new  life  had  begun  for  her  in 
earnest.  Not  "  I "  but  "  we."  Oh,  the  magic,  the 
bliss  of  that  thought! 

The  letter  was  brief  but  entirely  satisfactory,  and  it 
was  necessary  to  read  and  reread  it  so  often  that  she 
had  not  half  finished  her  breakfast  when  Margaret  came 
for  her  morning's  inspection,  but  the  bright  face  gave 
no  clue  to  the  wakeful  night. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  well,  and  all  the  pain  seems  gone, 
this  morning,  Aunt  Maggie;  I  am  only  just  a  little  stiff. 
I  mean  to  dress  myself  and  come  downstairs  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"  That's  right,"  encouragingly.  "  So  you  have  heard 
from  your  Viking,  Maureen."  Then  tlie  girl's  face 
was  suffused  with  colour. 

"  Yes  " ;  she  stammered,  "  it  was  so  kind  of  him  to 

374 


"  I  Cannot  Face  the  Music  "          375 

write.  He  wanted  me  to  know  that  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  remain  in  town  for  the  night  He  said  there 
were  one  or  two  things  he  wanted  to  get,  and  that  we 
must  not  expect  to  see  him  until  to-morrow  evening." 

"  Well,  I  can  survive/'  returned  Margaret,  com- 
posedly, "  and  I  suppose  you  can,  too." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Peggy,  how  can  you  say  such  things  ? 
And  there  is  something  else  I  meant  to  tell  you;  Ruth 
is  coming  round  quite  early." 

"  So  I  expected.  I  shall  leave  you  two  young  women 
to  talk  to  each  other,  and  go  out  and  do  my  business. 
Don't  let  her  tire  you  too  much." 

"  I  don't  think  anything  will  tire  me  to-day ;  I  am 
as  fit  as  possible,  as  Harold  often  says.  Oh,  the  dear 
fellow,  how  I  long  to  see  him!  There,  I  have  finished, 
Aunt  Margaret,  and  Rhoda  can  take  the  tray  away,  and 
then  I  will  get  up."  But  she  was  only  just  dressed 
when  Ruth  arrived. 

If  ever  a  human  face  sparkled  and  beamed  Ruth's 
did  that  morning.  Margaret  declared  that  the  coal- 
heaver's  compliments  ought  to  be  reproduced  for  her 
benefit,  for  she  was  perfectly  radiant. 

"  Oh,  you  darling,  what  am  I  to  say  to  you  ? "  she 
exclaimed  when  the  two  girls  were  left  alone  together. 
"  When  Romney  told  me  last  night  what  had  happened 
I  could  hardly  believe  my  ears.  '  You  will  have  a  real 
sister  of  your  own,  Ruthie.'  Oh,  if  you  could  only  have 
seen  his  face  when  he  said  that." 

Maureen  was  silent.  Ruth's  joy  was  so  touching, 
that  it  almost  moved  her  to  tears. 

"  If  you  could  only  imagine  my  surprise,  Maureen ; 
for  I  had  never  dreamt  of  such  a  thing  for  a  moment. 
One  has  thoughts  and  fancies  and  wishes,  bwt  one  does 
not  really  believe  in  them.  I  knew  Romney  liked  you, 
and  that  he  took  a  great  deal  of  notice  of  you,  but  I 
thought  he  would  never  marry." 

"  Dear  Ruth,  it  makes  me  so  happy  to  think  that 
one  day  we  shall  be  sisters." 


376  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Yes,  but  not  happier  than  it  makes  me."  And 
Ruth  hugged  her  again.  "  Think  how  delightful  it  will 
be  for  us  three  to  be  together!  My  dear  old  Romney 
will  be  a  different  man.  You  are  just  the  sort  of  girl 
he  wants;  you  will  suit  him  down  to  the  ground.  He 
said,  one  day,  that  he  was  sure  you  had  a  strain  of 
gipsy  blood  in  your  veins,  you  were  so  strong  and  active 
and  hardy,  and  so  fond  of  open-air  life.  You  have  the 
same  tastes,  and  love  freedom  and  roaming  about,  and 
motoring  expeditions." 

Then  Maureen's  white  teeth  gleamed  as  she  smiled. 
"  Oh  yes,  I  shall  dearly  like  that." 

"  I  am  so  different."  Here  Ruth  sighed.  "  I  never 
could  care  for  the  things  that  Romney  liked;  and 
somehow  our  temperaments  jarred.  He  would  persist 
in  putting  me  into  a  glass  case,  as  though  I  were  some- 
thing precious  and  brittle,  and  he  was  responsible  for 
my  safe  keeping.  He  never  could  think  Marsh  Hall  a 
fit  home  for  me.  Even  last  night  he  said  so  again, 
but  that  he  knew  the  environment  would  suit  you.  He 
is  going  to  hurry  on  those  new  rooms,  Maureen,  and 
they  will  be  just  lovely;  I  can  tell  you  that."  But 
Maureen  refused  to  discuss  the  subject. 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  that,  dear,"  she  said, 
gently.  "  All  these  sublunary  things  don't  seem  to 
matter.  The  great  thing  is  that  he  cares  for  me,  and 
that  I  must  try  to  be  worthy  of  his  choice.  Oh,  it  is 
all  so  new  and  fresh  that  one  can  hardly  speak  of  it." 
And  the  brown  eyes  were  a  little  wet  as  Maureen  said 
this.  She  was  too  young  and  inexperienced  to  express 
her  need  for  thought  and  silence;  but  she  could  have 
said  with  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning,  only  in  simpler 
language : 

"  The  whole  earth  and  skies 
Are  illumed  by  altar  candles, 
Lit  for  blessed  mysteries." 

For  though  she  was  no  longer  in  a  dream  it  seemed  as 


"  I  Cannot  Face  the  Music  "          377 

though  some  miracle  of  bud  and  blossom  was  making 
her  life  beautiful. 

When  Margaret  returned  Ruth  reluctantly  took  her 
leave,  and  the  remainder  of  the  day  was  spent  very 
restfully  and  quietly.  Maureen  wrote  to  her  mother, 
and  added  a  note  for  Harold.  Margaret  wrote  also  and 
in  the  evening  they  had  a  little  talk,  which  was  very 
comforting  to  both  of  them. 

Maureen's  stiffness  was  so  much  better  the  next 
day,  that  she  was  able  to  go  out  with  Margaret.  They 
met  Ruth  and  Mrs.  Holden,  and  walked  a  little  way 
with  them.  Ruth  pleaded  to  be  allowed  to  come  in  the 
afternoon,  but  Margaret  would  not  hear  of  it.  She 
wanted  Maureen  to  rest,  and  to  look  her  best  for  the 
evening.  And  though  Ruth  was  disappointed,  she  said 
no  more. 

Margaret  had  ordered  dinner  a  little  later  that 
night  that  Mr.  Chaytor's  visit  might  not  be  hurried. 
But  he  came  earlier  than  they  expected.  Margaret  went 
out  into  the  hall  to  receive  him,  and  so  her  surprised 
exclamation  escaped  Maureen's  ears. 

She  had  risen  quickly  from  her  seat,  and  was 
standing  by  the  fire  when  Romney  entered,  and  she 
did  not  turn  until  he  was  close  to  her. 

"  Darling,  are  you  half  as  glad  to  see  me  as  I  am 
to  see  you  again  ?  "  he  said,  as  he  greeted  her.  "  Why," 
looking  at  her  shy,  rosy  face,  "  the  little  girl  has  grown 
up  to-day,  I  see ; "  for  Maureen  had  been  able  to  coil 
her  hair  in  her  usual  fashion.  "  But  you  look  so  well, 
dear ;  and  Miss  Brvdon  tells  me  you  had  a  nice  walk." 

"  Yes,  and  it  was  delicious  to  be  out  in  the  fresh  air 
again.  We  met  Ruth  and  Mrs.  Holden."  But  he  only 
stroked  her  soft  hair  a  little  absently. 

"  Maureen,  do  you  know  I  have  brought  some  one 
down  with  me  from  town !  " 

"  Oh,  is  it  Harold  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 

"  No,  not  Harold ;  but  you  shall  see  for  yourself 
directly."  Then  he  kissed  her  again,  and  let  her  go. 


378  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

And  as  Maureen  opened  the  door  she  saw  her  mother 
sitting  by  the  hall  fire,  with  Margaret  kneeling  on  the 
rug  beside  her. 

"  Mother !  "  burst  from  her  lips  in  astonishment,  then 
Anna  held  out  her  arms  to  the  girl  with  a  loving  gesture. 

"  Did  you  think  I  could  stay  away,"  she  said  re- 
proachfully, "  when  we  might  have  lost  you  ?  And  now 
Maureen " — but  Anna's  voice  was  not  quite  clear — 
"  dear  child,  your  father  and  I  are  so  happy  about  this ; 
we  like  your  Viking  so  much.  He  wanted  to  come 
himself  to  give  you  his  blessing ;  but  he  could  not  leave." 

"  It  was  so  dear  and  good  of  you  to  come,  mother." 

"  Good  to  myself,  you  mean.  Do  you  really  think  I 
could  have  stayed  away?  She  does  not  understand  a 
mother's  feelings,  does  she,  Margaret?  How  well  and 
happy  the  child  looks,"  she  went  on.  "  It  makes  one 
forget  the  awful  peril  she  was  in,  though  it  made  me 
quite  ill  when  I  first  heard  of  it,  and  I  don't  believe  Dan 
closed  his  eyes  that  night  for  hours." 

"  Please  do  not  speak  of  it,  mother." 

"  No ;  we  have  far  happier  things  to  think  about ;  but 
we  will  talk  more  to-morrow.  Margaret  is  going  to  take 
me  up  to  her  room,  as  mine  is  not  ready  for  me,  and 
you  must  go  to  Mr.  Chaytor."  Then  Maureen  went 
slowly  back  to  the  drawing-room.  Romney  was  evi- 
dently looking  for  her  return  rather  impatiently. 

"Well,  were  you  pleased  to  see  your  mother?"  he 
said,  smiling  at  her. 

"Oh,  why  is  every  one  so  good  to  me?"  she  said, 
humbly.  "  Mother  has  come  all  this  way  to  see  me,  and 
father  wanted  to  come  too." 

"Yes,  I  know.  Did  your  mother  tell  you,  dearest, 
that  he  took  me  down  to  the  Homestead  with  him  last 
night?" 

"  Oh  no ;  mother  never  told  me  that,"  and  Maureen 
listened  with  delight  as  Romney  gave  her  an  account 
of  his  visit.  Daniel  Brydon  had  taken  him  straight 
to  his  wife,  and  had  announced  his  business  in  his  curt, 
dry  way: 


"  I  Cannot  Face  the  Music  "          879 

"  Anna,  this  is  Mr.  Chaytor.  He  has  asked  our  per- 
mission to  propose  to  Maureen,  but  it  seems  they  settled 
it  for  themselves  yesterday." 

"  Poor,  dear  mother ;  how  astonished  she  must  have 
been !  " 

"  Well,  she  was  a  little  upset  at  first,  but  I  soon 
made  it  all  dear  to  her,  and  we  became  the  best  of 
friends.  Darling,  do  you  know  I  have  fallen  in  love 
with  your  mother,  and  a  certain  little  person  will  be 
dearer  to  me  for  being  her  daughter." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !  "  she  whispered.  "  And  then 
you  saw  them  all." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  them  all.  No  wonder  you  loved  your 
home,  Maureen."  And  then  he  told  her  all  the  little 
details  he  knew  she  would  like  to  hear,  and  time 
passed  blissfully  until  Margaret  and  her  sister-in-law 
returned. 

Anna  stayed  for  about  a  week  at  the  Garden  House, 
and  Daniel  came  down  for  a  couple  of  days  and  took  her 
home  a  little  later.  Irene  also  paid  them  a  short  visit, 
for  Margaret  was  determined  that  Maureen  should  not 
miss  her  belongings  at  this  momentous  period  of  her 
existence,  and  she  knew  how  dearly  the  two  sisters 
would  love  to  be  together.  But  Harold  never  came. 

He  had  written  the  moment  the  news  had  reached 
him,  and  his  letter  was  as  affectionate  as  possible. 

"  I  wonder  if  even  you  know  how  glad  I  am  about  this," 
he  wrote.  "  It  is  the  grandest  piece  of  news  I  have  ever  heard. 
All  happiness  to  you  and  your  Viking.  He  is  a  splendid 
fellow,  and  you  cannot  fail  to  be  happy  with  him. 

"  I  am  so  glad,  too,  for  Miss  Chaytor's  sake.  I  know  how 
good  you  will  be  to  her,  Maureen.  I  will  run  down  and  see 
you  one  of  these  days,  but  just  now,  forgive  me,  dear.  I 
cannot  face  the  music. — Your  loving  brother,  HAROLD." 

When  Maureen  laid  down  the  letter  her  eyes  were 
a  little  sad.  "  Oh,  poor  fellow,"  she  sighed.  For  this 
was  "  the  little  rift  within  the  lute  "  of  her  happiness, 
which  jarred  on  its  perfect  music. 


380  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

In  spite  of  this  one  drawback  she  was  very  happy; 
and  the  diamonds  on  the  little  brown  hand  that  had  once 
been  ringless  did  not  gleam  more  brightly  than  the  smile 
that  lit  up  her  face.  Day  by  day  she  grew  to  under- 
stand her  lover  better,  and  to  trust  and  depend  on  him 
more  entirely.  And  day  by  day  she  realised  how  neces- 
sary she  was  to  his  happiness.  Maureen,  in  her  deep 
content,  would  have  wished  for  no  further  change. 
But  Romney  Chaytor  was  not  one  of  those  who  cared  to 
wait  for  his  good  things.  He  wanted  Maureen 
in  his  life  and  home,  and  he  swept  away  with  a 
strong  hand  all  feminine  and  flimsy  excuses  for  delay. 
When  Ruth  pointed  out  to  him  that  the  new  rooms 
would  not  be  ready  for  habitation  by  August,  he  gave 
a  short  laugh. 

"  What  does  that  matter  ?  "  he  returned.  "  Maureen 
and  I  have  settled  about  that.  We  shall  not  be  back 
from  Scotland  until  the  middle  of  September,  and  they 
will  be  ready  then.  And  we  shall  put  up  at  Bailey's 
Hotel  for  a  few  days  while  we  get  the  furniture.  Mau- 
reen will  be  glad  to  see  something  of  her  people."  For 
Romney  Chaytor  had  decreed  that  the  honeymoon 
should  be  spent  in  a  motor  trip  through  Scotland.  As 
the  date  of  the  wedding  was  fixed  for  the  twenty-fifth 
of  July,  Margaret,  who  intended  to  give  Maureen  her 
trousseau,  had  arranged  that  they  should  go  to  the 
Homestead  in  May  for  two  or  three  weeks  to  do  their 
shopping. 

Mrs.  Holden  would  be  obliged  to  leave  Marsh  Hall 
in  July,  as  her  brother  wished  her  to  join  him  as  soon 
as  possible.  And  while  Romney  and  Maureen  were 
away  Margaret  had  begged  that  Ruth  would  keep  her 
company  at  the  Garden  House,  and  Ruth  had  joyfully 
accepted  the  invitation.  As  it  turned  out  afterwards 
Margaret  had  another  visitor  at  the  same  time. 

Romney  Chaytor  had  more  than  once  expressed  his 
surprise  to  Maureen  that  Harold  had  not  yet  paid  his 
promised  visit,  but  she  had  always  some  excuse  to  give 


"  I  Cannot  Face  the  Music  "          381 

him.  But  one  day  at  the  beginning  of  April,  when 
Romney  paid  an  unexpected  visit  to  the  Garden  House, 
he  found  her  looking  a  little  depressed  over  a  letter 
she  had  just  received  from  Harold.  But  she  put  it 
away  hastily,  and  spoke  to  him  with  forced  cheerfulness. 
He  took  no  notice  for  some  minutes,  for  he  wanted  to 
consult  her  about  some  drawings  of  mantelpieces,  but 
when  they  had  finished  looking  at  them  he  said  quietly: 

"  Well,  is  Harold  coming  down  to  see  you  at  last?  " 

"  He  has  not  fixed  the  day,"  she  returned,  a  little 
dejectedly.  "  I  don't  think  he  is  quite  well.  He  does 
not  write  very  brightly.  He  says  it  is  the  east  wind." 

"May  I  see  the  letter,  dear?"  but  Maureen  shook 
her  head  with  rather  a.  troubled  expression. 

"  Harold  never  likes  me  to  show  his  letters  to  other 
people.  He  is  Entre-nous,  you  see." 

"  Well,  then,  supposing  you  tell  me  all  about  it," 
returned  Romney,  coolly.  Then,  as  Maureen  looked 
up  in  sudden  surprise,  he  went  on  in  the  same  matter- 
of-fact  way :  "  I  am  not  quite  so  dense  as  you  think, 
and  I  have  long  been  aware  that  something  is  amiss  with 
your  brother.  He  is  well,  Irene  told  us  so,  and  he  is 
tolerably  reconciled  to  his  work.  So  it  must  be  some- 
thing else.  Shall  I  guess,  Maureen,  why  Harold  never 
comes  down  to  Branksmere  ?  "  Maureen's  cheeks  were 
flaming.  She  tried  to  hide  them  with  her  hands. 
Romney's  eyes  were  as  keen  as  a  hawk,  and  if  he  had  any 
suspicion  of  poor  Harold's  secret  what  should  she  do? 

"  Oh,  don't,  please  don't  try  to  guess,  Romney.  I 
will  write  to-morrow  and  beg  him  to  come  down,  and 
I  know  he  will  come  if  I  really  want  him."  But  he 
simply  brushed  all  this  aside. 

"  You  are  a  bad  actor,  I  am  glad  to  say,"  he  ob- 
served, calmly.  "  I  have  long  known  that  you  have 
been  troubled  about  Harold.  Did  you  think  you  could 
hide  anything  from  me,  darling?  But  I  have  only  just 
discovered  your  brother's  secret;  he  has  fallen  in  love 
with  Ruth."' 


382  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  Oh,  Romney !  "  and  Maureen  looked  at  him  help- 
lessly; how  was  she  to  contradict  the  truth? 

"Well,  am  I  right,  dear?" 

"  You  must  not  ask  me  that.  But  what — what  made 
you  think  of  such  a  thing?  I  have  said  nothing." 

"  No,  you  have  been  as  discreet  as  possible.  Don't 
look  so  frightened  my  dear  one;  you  have  not  betrayed 
your  brother's  confidence.  I  have  guessed  the  truth 
from  quite  another  source." 

"Are  you  sure  of  that,  Romney?"  and  Maureen 
looked  immensely  relieved. 

"  Quite  sure,  dear.  And  as  you  have  behaved  so  well 
I  will  try  to  follow  your  example  and  ask  you  no  trou- 
blesome questions.  If  there  is  anything  that  you  can 
tell  me  without  betraying  his  confidence  I  think  I  ought 
to  know,  as  I  am  Ruth's  guardian." 

"  I  am  afraid  he  does  care  very  much,"  she  replied, 
"  and  that  he  is  very  unhappy.  That  is  why  he  does  not 
come.  He  says  himself  that  he  cannot  face  the  music." 
Then  a  strange  expression  crossed  Romney's  face. 

"  But  suppose  I  have  a  strong  suspicion  that  Ruth 
cares,  too ;  what  then,  little  girl  ?  "  Then  Maureen  gazed 
at  him  doubtfully. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  what  can  you  mean  ?  "  she 
asked,  but  he  looked  at  her  with  a  reassuring  smile. 

"  I  will  wait  to  explain  my  meaning  until  I  know 
more  about  it.  Now  will  you  write  a  letter  to  Harold? 
I  will  tell  you  what  to  say,  but  you  can  put  it  in  your 
own  words."  And  as  Maureen  obediently  fetched  her 
writing-materials,  the  upshot  was  that  Harold  received 
a  letter  which  determined  him  to  pack  up  his  valise  and 
go  down  the  very  next  day.  Business  was  slack,  and 
he  could  easily  get  away.  This  is  what  Maureen  wrote : 

"  DEAREST  HAROLD — You  said  if  I  ever  wanted  you  very 
badly  that  you  would  come  down  at  once  however  much  h 
might  cost  you,  and  now  I  am  going  to  hold  you  to  your  word. 

"  I  want  you  so  badly  that  I  shall  not  know  a  moment's 
peace  until  you  come.  Romney  has  discovered  your  secret, 


"  I  Cannot  Face  the  Music  "          388 

but  not  through  me.  He  will  not  tell  me  how  he  has  guessed 
it,  but  he  has  suspected  it  vaguely  for  some"  time. 

"  He  does  not  seem  the  least  angry,  only  surprised  and 
interested,  but  he  says  he  will  not  ask  me  any  questions  as  I 
ought  not  to  betray  your  confidence. 

"  Dear  Harold,  do  you  not  think  it  would  be  only  honest 
and  honourable  to  tell  him  the  truth  yourself?  It  can  do  you 
no  harm  for  you  have  never  hoped  to  win  Ruth,  and  one  day 
he  will  be  your  brother. 

"  For  my  sake  do  trust  him.  He  has  such  a  noble  heart,  I 
am  sure  you  would  never  repent  it. — Your  loving  and  anxious 

"  MAUMBEN." 

This  was  the  letter  which  brought  Harold  to  the 
Garden.  House  the  very  next  evening. 


XLII 

GOLDEN   SHEAVES 

Our  youth  went  by  in  recklessness  and  haste, 
And  precious  things  were  lost  as  soon  as  gained ; 
Yet  patiently  our  Father  saw  the  waste 
And  gathered  up  the  fragments  that  remained. 

Taught  by  His  love,  we  learnt  to  love  aright; 
Led  by  His  hand  we  passed  through  dreary  ways ; 
And  now  how  lovely  is  the  mellow  light 
That  shines  so  calmly  on  our  latter  days. 

SARAH  DOUDNEY. 

IF  Maureen's  conscience  had  been  less  clear  and  free 
from  blame  she  would  have  felt  some  misgiving  when 
she  saw  Harold's  pale  set  face  that  evening.  He  had 
arrived  just  before  dinner,  and  there  had  been  no  time 
for  any  explanation ;  but  Margaret,  who  soon  perceived 
that  the  young  people  were  not  at  their  ease,  and  that 
something  was  evidently  amiss  with  Harold,  soon  found 
an  opportunity  of  leaving  them  together. 

Maureen  had  not  ventured  to  confide  in  her,  but 
Margaret,  who  was  very  clear-sighted,  had  guessed  the 
purport  of  this  sudden  visit.  "  Romney  Chaytor  has 
somehow  found  things  out,"  she  thought.  "  I  hope  he 
will  not  make  a  Star-chamber  matter  of  it."  So,  as 
they  rose  from  the  table,  she  said  quietly,  "  Master 
and  Tobias  and  I  mean  to  stay  here  for  the  present, 
and  you  two  can  make  yourselves  cosy  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  talk  over  the  affairs  of  the  nation." 

"  But  we  ought  not  to  banish  you,  Aunt  Margaret," 
returned  Harold,  with  a  forced  smile.  But  Margaret 
only  kissed  her  hand  to  him,  and  settled  herself  in  her 
favourite  chair.  And  after  a  moment's  hesitation  Harold 
had  followed  Maureen. 

"  And  now,  what  does  this  mean  ?  "  he  asked,  as  soon 
as  the  door  had  closed  behind  them.  He  was  standing 

384 


Golden  Sheaves  385 

before  her,  his  head  very  erect,  and  his  face  unusually 
stern.  But  though  Maureen  looked  at  him  rather 
anxiously,  she  was  not  embarrassed.  "  How  is  it  that 
Chaytor  knows  about  this  ?  " 

"  It  was  not  my  fault,  Harold,"  she  said,  gently. 
"  Shall  I  tell  you  all  that  passed  between  us  "  and,  as 
he  nodded,  she  repeated  her  conversation  with  Romney. 
"  That  is  all  I  know  about  it,"  she  finished.  "  I  have  no 
more  idea  than  you  how  he  found  it  out — unless — but 
I  think  I  had  better  not  say  that."  Then  he  gave  her 
a  quick,  searching  look,  and  then  suddenly  averted  his 
eyes. 

"  But  why  did  he  tell  you  to  write  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that  is  for  him  to  say.  But  it  is  certain  that 
for  some  reason  he  wishes  to  speak  to  you — '  You 
might  tell  him  that  I  am  not  angry/  that  was  one  of 
the  things  he  said;  and  then  he  asked  me  to  write  so 
that  you  would  not  refuse  to  come  down." 

"  He  has  forced  my  hand,"  returned  Harold, 
gloomily.  Poor  boy,  how  white  and  careworn  he 
looked !  He  was  hungering  for  a  sight  of  the  fair, 
bewitching  face,  which,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts, 
haunted  him  day  and  night ;  and  though  he  had  fought 
well  and  honestly  against  it  all  these  months,  the  ravag- 
ing marks  of  that  consuming  passion  was  stamped 
legibly  on  his  features.  He  looked  years  older. 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand  you,  dear." 

"  Do  you  not  ?  It  is  as  plain  as  A  B  C.  You  are 
gcing  to  marry  Chaytor,  and  it  stands  to  reason  that  I 
do  not  wish  to  be  shut  out  of  my  sister's  home." 

"  No,  of  course  not !  " 

"  But  I  will  not  enter  any  man's  house  on  false  pre- 
tences. Romney  Chaytor  must  know  the  truth.  That 
is  why  I  say  he  is  forcing  my  hand.  To-morrow  I 
shall  go  to  Marsh  Hall  and  tell  him  the  truth,  and  if 
we  quarrel " — but  here  his  face  softened  a  little — "  it 
will  not  be  my  fault,  Maureen."  But  she  only  smiled 
at  that. 

M 


386  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

"  I  am  not  afraid,  Harold,  dear.  Oh,  you  do  not 
know  Romney.  In  spite  of  his  abrupt  manners  he  has 
the  kindest  and  noblest  heart  in  the  world.  Oh,"  she 
continued,  in  a  moved  voice,  "  it  is  such  peace  to  know 
that  I  shall  be  able  to  trust  and  look  up  to  him  all  my 
life.  Sometimes  it  seems  too  much  happiness — it  almost 
frightens  me."  Then  Harold's  moody  look  relaxed, 
and  he  kissed  her  cheek  with  real  brotherly  affection. 

"  I  am  so  glad.  But  you  deserve  to  be  happy, 
Maureen,  for  you  have  been  a  thorough  little  brick  all 
your  life."  And  after  this  they  sat  down  and  talked 
more  comfortably  together,  and  Harold  listened  greedily 
to  all  that  Maureen  told  him  about  Ruth,  and  how 
happy  she  was  at  the  prospect  of  her  brother's  marriage. 

How  Maureen  longed  to  repeat  to  him  Romney's 
speech,  in  which  he  had  conveyed  to  her  his  strong 
suspicion  that  Ruth  cared  for  Harold.  But  a  sense  of 
delicacy  forbade  her;  no  woman  likes  to  give  another 
woman  away.  "  I  had  better  leave  it  all  to  Romney," 
she  thought,  with  a  delicious  sense  that  all  her  life, 
please  God,  she  would  have  his  clear  judgment  to  aid 
her  in  her  difficulties.  "  The  best  part  of  loving  is  the 
trusting,"  she  said  once  to  Margaret.  "  If  Romney 
were  not  such  a  good  man — I  mean  as  highly  principled 
as  he  is — I  should  not  have  this  feeling  of  intense  rest." 
And  Margaret  understood  her. 

It  was  evident  to  both  ladies  that  Harold  had  slept 
badly,  for  he  looked  worn  and  jaded  when  he  appeared 
at  the  breakfast-table;  but  neither  of  them  ventured  to 
ask  him  the  question.  Margaret  talked  on  indifferent 
subjects. 

When  Harold  announced  his  intention  of  going  over 
to  Marsh  Hall  quite  early,  Margaret  took  it  as  a  matter 
of  course.  "  You  have  not  seen  Romney  Chaytor  since 
his  engagement,"  she  remarked  quietly.  "  Are  you 
going  with  him,  Maureen?"  But  as  the  girl  hesitated 
a  moment,  Harold  answered  for  her. 

"I  think  not  this   morning,  Aunt   Peggy.     I  shall 


Golden  Sheaves  387 

probably  not  be  long,"  and  there  was  again  the  drawn, 
constrained  look  on  Harold's  face,  and  he  quitted  the 
room  a  little  abruptly. 

"  Poor  boy,"  sighed  Margaret,  as  she  took  up  her 
key-basket.  "  Maureen,  if  you  want  me  for  anything 
you  will  find  me  in  the  garden.  Giles  is  very  busy  this 
morning,  and  I  intend  to  help  him."  But  it  was  long 
past  noon  before  Maureen  went  in  search  of  her. 

"  Hasn't  Harold  come  back  ?  "  exclaimed  Margaret, 
in  some  surprise. 

"  No.  I  have  just  had  a  note  from  Romney.  He 
is  keeping  him  to  luncheon,  and  he  wants  me  to  go 
too.  He  has  sent  Gale  and  the  motor  to  fetch  me." 
Then  an  odd  expression  crossed  Margaret's  face. 

"  Then  you  had  better  get  ready  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible. There  is  no  need  for  you  to  change  your  frock, 
Maureen,  you  look  as  nice  as  possible  " ;  and  Maureen 
nodded  and  ran  off,  and  Margaret  returned  to  her 
labours  with  renewed  cheerfulness.  "  The  world  went 
very  well  with  some  people,"  she  thought.  "  Yes,  for 
some  it  went  very  well  indeed." 

Maureen  was  saying  much  the  same  thing  to  herself 
as  the  motor  sped  through  the  village.  Romney  must 
have  been  nice  to  Harold  or  he  would  not  have  consented 
to  remain  to  luncheon. 

As  they  went  up  the  drive  Maureen  saw  the  front 
door  was  open,  and  Gale  told  her  his  master  was  about 
the  place.  So,  as  there  was  no  servant  in  sight,  she  ran 
up  to  the  morning-room,  and,  knocking  lightly  at  the 
door  and  meeting  with  no  response,  she  entered.  There 
were  only  two  people  in  the  room — Ruth  and  Harold 
— and  they  were  seated  on  a  couch  very  close  together, 
and  Maureen  was  almost  sure  that  they  were  hand 
in  hand. 

"  Oh  dear !  "  she  exclaimed,  flushing  with  embarrass- 
ment. "  I  knocked,  but  you  did  not  hear  me." 

Then  a  transfigured  Harold  leapt  from  the  couch. 
"No,  we  heard  nothing;  but  what  does  that  matter? 


388  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

You  have  come  just  at  the  right  time  to  wish  us  joy. 
Maureen, .can  you  believe  it?  Ruth  has  consented  to 
marry  me;  and  Chaytor,  like  the  trump  he  is,  gave 
me  leave  to  ask  her."  Then  Maureen's  arms  went 
round  his  neck,  and  he  could  say  no  more. 

"  Oh  Harold,  my  dear,  dear  brother !  "  And  then 
Ruth,  dimpling  and  shy  with  her  new  happiness,  stole 
to  her  lover's  side.  Harold  put  his  arm  round  her 
proudly — how  well  he  played  his  part,  this  quiet,  self- 
respecting  Entre-nous. 

"  Can  you  believe  it,  Maureen — is  it  not  utterly 
incredible  ?  "  But  Maureen  refused  to  endorse  this. 

"  Ruth,  darling,"  she  said,  kissing  her,  "  I  love  you 
more  than  ever  for  being  so  good  to  him ;  but  I  know 
he  deserves  all  you  can  give  him." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  returned  Ruth,  looking  so  inex- 
pressibly lovely  as  she  spoke  that  Harold  could  almost 
have  worshipped  her.  "  But  he  was  so  silly.  Could 
you  believe  it,  Maureen,  that  he  did  not  like  to  speak 
because  I  had  all  that  stupid  money,  as  though  it  mat- 
tered when  he  knew  quite  well ?  "  But  here  Ruth 

just  glanced  at  him  and  did  not  finish  her  sentence. 

"  Shall  I  finish  it  for  you?  "  whispered  Harold.  Bat 
she  shook  her  head. 

"  Maureen  knows  all  about  it,"  she  returned. 

Oh,  how  happy  they  were!  Ruth  and  Maureen  sat 
down  on  the  couch,  and  Harold  drew  up  a  chair  beside 
them,  while  they  told  her  how  this  marvellous  thing 
had  come  to  pass. 

"  I  told  Chaytor  the  truth,  Maureen,"  began  Harold. 
"  I  kept  nothing  back.  But  you  were  right ;  he  seemed 
to  know  all  about  it  beforehand.  He  is  a  terribly 
observant  fellow,  and  he  has  noticed  things  for  a  long 
time.  But  he  took  my  breath  away  when  he  asked  me 
if  I  did  not  wish  to  speak  to  Ruth. 

"'What  am  I  to  say  to  her?'  I  returned,  staring 
at  him,  for  the  room  seemed  going  round  with  me  that 
moment,  I  felt  so  stupid  and  dizzy.  '  How  can  I  ask 


Golden  Sheaves  389 

her  to  marry  a  solicitor's  clerk  with  not  two  hundred 
a  year  ? ' 

"  Then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders — you  know  his 
way,  Maureen.  '  Oh,  if  I  were  you,'  he  remarked, 
coolly,  '  I  would  not  let  that  stand  in  my  way.  Ruth 
has  her  own  opinions.  She  has  already  refused  three 
offers ;  and  if  you  do  not  mind  running  the  risk,  you 
might  see  what  she  says  about  it.'  So  I  took  his  advice." 
And  then  he  and  Ruth  looked  at  each  other.  'Neither 
of  them  ever  owned  the  truth  that,  when  the  poor  boy 
stood  before  her  unable  to  speak — for  the  emotion  that 
nearly  choked  him — true-hearted,  brave  little  Ruth,  who 
had  read  the  truth  in  his  face,  stretched  out  her  hands 
to  him — "  Oh,  do  not  look  like  that ;  do  not  be  so 
afraid,  Harold,"  she  said  so  sweetly.  And  then  without 
a  word  he  had  taken  her  in  his  arms. 

Harold's  proposal,  his  long-drawn  explanations  of 
his  limitations,  his  poverty,  his  lack  of  position,  all 
came  when  everything  was  comfortably  settled.  It  was 
the  cart  before  the  horse,  but  it  answered  splendidly,  and 
there  was  no  real  awkwardness  for  a  moment.  "  And 
then,"  went  on  Harold,  "  Chaytor  came  in  when  Ruth 
and  I  had  had  our  talk  to  give  us  his  blessing,  and  to  tell 
us  that  he  meant  to  send  the  motor  for  you." 

"  There  he  is ! "  interrupted  Ruth,  as  the  limping 
footsteps  came  up  the  corridor.  "  Do  go  and  meet  him, 
Maureen.  I  know  he  wants  to  speak  to  you  alone." 
And  Maureen  did  as  she  was  asked. 

Romney  looked  very  pleased  when  he  saw  her. 
"  Come  into  the  library,  darling,"  he  said.  "  I  want  to 
know  what  you  think  of  our  morning's  work." 

"  Oh,  Romney,  I  do  so  want  to  thank  you ! "  she 
returned,  earnestly.  "  I  know  how  you  encouraged  the 
poor  boy  to  speak ;  and  that  it's  all  owing  to  your 
goodness  that  things  have  come  right.  If  you  and 

Ruth  had  not  been  so  unworldly  and  generous " 

But  he  would  not  let  her  go  on. 

"  Why,   what   nonsense,   dear !     Your  brother   is   a 


390  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

gentleman — an  honest,  upright,  manly  fellow,  and  he 
perfectly  adores  our  little  Ruth;  and  she  has  money 
enough  for  both.  Do  you  think  I  did  not  know  that 
they  cared  for  each  other?  When  I  advised  him  to 
speak  I  was  pretty  sure  in  my  own  mind  what  Ruth's 
answer  would  be." 

"  And  you  are  really  satisfied,  Romney  ?  " 

"  Yes,  love ;  more  than  satisfied,  for  I  feel  Ruth  will 
be  in  safe  hands.  I  have  a  very  high  opinion  of  your 
Entre-nous.  Now  we  shall  have  no  more  grave  looks 
when  you  read  his  letters."  Then  Maureen's  bright 
smile  was  a  convincing  answer. 

"  I  wonder  what  Aunt  Margaret  will  say  ? "  she 
observed  by  and  by,  as  they  sat  at  luncheon. 

"  Shall  we  go  in  a  body  and  find  out  for  ourselves?  " 
returned  Romney,  coolly.  "  Shall  I  tell  Gale  to  bring 
the  car  round  in  an  hour  ?  "  And  this  suggestion  was 
highly  approved. 

But  it  was  nearly  tea-time  before  the  car  stopped 
at  the  door  of  the  Garden  House;  and  Margaret,  who 
needed  no  explanation,  went  out  with  a  beaming  face 
to  welcome  "  the  last  pair  of  love-birds,"  as  she  phrased 
it.  But  when  she  had  kissed  her  nephew  and  Ruth,  she 
put  her  hand  on  Romney  Chaytor's  arm. 

"  Romney,"  she  said,  "  you  have  behaved  like  a  fine- 
hearted  English  gentleman,  and  you  never  did  a  better 
day's  work  in  your  life.  You  may  take  my  word  for 
that." 

"  Except  that  day  when  I  asked  Maureen  to  marry 
me,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice ;  "  and  I  had  to  thank  you 
for  that,  dear  lady."  And  he  took  Margaret's  hand  and 
kissed  it. 

One  cold  January  afternoon  Margaret  sat  by  her 
fireside  in  the  twilight.  But  she  was  not  alone.  Anna 
was  in  the  easy-chair  opposite  to  her. 

Six  months  had  passed  since  Maureen  had  become 
Romney  Chaytor's  wife,  and  Daniel  and  Anna  had  come 
for  a  flying  visit  to  the  Garden  House  to  solace  Mar- 


Golden  Sheaves  391 

garet's  loneliness,  and  to  feast  their  eyes  with  a  sight 
of  their  child's  happiness. 

"  So  you  have  left  Daniel  behind  you."  It  was 
Margaret  who  was  speaking. 

"  Yes ;  Maureen  begged  so  hard  that  he  would  stay. 
And  then  Ruth  put  in  her  word ;  so  I  told  them  that 
I  would  come  back  and  keep  you  company;  and  as  Dan 
has  promised  not  to  be  late,  I  thought  you  would  not 
mind." 

"  No,  indeed ;  I  am  very  glad.  Well,  dear !  "  tenta- 
tively. Then  a  proud,  maternal  smile  crossed  Anna's 
beautiful  face. 

"  The  child  is  very  happy,  Margaret,  and  I  have 
never  seen  her  look  so  well.  Romney  is  all  that  we 
could  wish." 

"I  knew  you  would  say  that;  and  it  is  the  truth. 
It  is  wonderful  how  Maureen  seems  to  adapt  herself  to 
all  his  ways.  If  she  had  been  his  wife  for  six  years 
instead  of  six  months,  she  could  not  understand  him 
better.  He  would  be  utterly  lost  without  her."  And 
Anna  assented  to  this. 

"  Please  God  they  will  be  happier  still  before  many 
months  are  over,"  she  said,  softly.  And  then  they 
looked  at  each  other  with  a  meaning  smile.  "  By  the 
bye,"  she  continued,  after  a  moment's  silence,  "  Ruth 
begged  me  to  tell  you  that  they  have  decided  to  take 
that  house  at  Kensington  that  they  liked  so  much. 
Romney  has  seen  it,  and  he  says  they  will  not  find 
another  so  suitable  in  every  way.  He  means  to  buy  it. 
It  is  to  be  his  wedding  present  to  Ruth.  Dear  child, 
she  is  so  excited  about  it." 

"  And  they  are  to  be  married  in  April  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  towards  the  end.  The  day  is  not  yet  fixed. 
And  all  our  girls  are  to  be  bridesmaids." 

"And  Irene?" 

"  Well,  Mr.  Walton  has  not  spoken  yet ;  but,  of 
course,  Dan  and  I  know  how  it  will  end.  He  and  Irene 
evidently  understand  each  other.  But  there  is  some- 


392  The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Hill 

thing  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  Margaret,  which  will  interest 
you  greatly.  Harold  is  to  have  chambers  of  his  own 
after  his  marriage.  Ruth  and  Romney  have  talked 
Daniel  over." 

Margaret  clapped  her  hands.  "  Bravo,  my  dear  old 
Dan !  Anna,  are"  you  not  delighted  ?  We  shall  see 
Harold  in  a  silk  gown  one  of  these  days."  Then  Anna 
looked  at  her  a  little  strangely. 

"  Margaret,  I  feel  as  though  I  do  not  deserve  it. 
All  these  years  I  have  been  so  rebellious  and  chafing 
against  my  limitations,  and  now  all  these  good  gifts 
have  been  poured  into  my  lap."  Margaret  looked  at  her 
with  silent  sympathy.  "  I  was  ambitious  for  my  chil- 
dren, and  I  did  not  want  Harold  to  go  into  his  father's 
office.  But  I  knew  Dan  wanted  him,  and  so  I  never  said 
a  word." 

"  I  am  afraid  Dan  will  miss  him  sorely." 

"  Yes ;  but  it  is  no  longer  of  such  vital  necessity. 
You  have  helped  him  so  much,  Margaret.  Clive  and 
Ninian  are  off  his  hands,  and  Maureen  has  married  a 
rich  man.  By  and  by  he  will  only  have  to  work  for 
me  and  the  Tweenies  and  Ivy.  Think  of  the 
difference !  " 

"Yes,  I  see.    And  you  are  happier,  Anna?" 

"  Far  happier,  dear.  You  have  taught  me  so  much, 
Margaret,  especially  during  this  last  year.  I  think  I 
am  trying  to  learn  the  lesson,  too." 

"  That  is  good  hearing."  But  Margaret's  voice  was 
a  little  dreamy. 

"  And  you,  dearest " — and  Anna's  tone  was  very 
soft  and  loving — "  can  you  still  assure  me  that  you  are 
not  lonely  ? "  Then  Margaret  turned  her  serene  face 
to  her  sister-in-law. 

"  How  strange  that  you  should  ask  me  that  question. 
I  dreamt  last  night  that  Henry  Torrance  was  saying 
the  same  thing  to  me.  '  You  are  not  lonely  now,  Mar- 
garet ? '  and  I  answered  so  vehemently,  '  No,  certainly 
not,'  that  I  woke  myself." 


Golden  Sheaves  393 

"  Ah,  you  still  dream  your  dreams.  But  I  hope 
that  answer  of  yours  was  a  true  one." 

"  Absolutely  true.  I  think  I  feel  less  lonely  every 
day.  Think  of  all  my  blessings,  Anna.  I  have  this  dear 
home,  '  the  garden  that  I  love,'  and  plenty  of  money 
to  help  Dan ;  then  I  have  Maureen  and  Romney,  and 
a  village  full  of  loving  human  hearts  to  keep  my  sym- 
pathies warm.  Ah,  dear  friend — for  you  have  been  my 
sister-friend  ever  since  Daniel  brought  you  home — you 
need  never  be  anxious  about  me.  In  spite  of  shadows 
and  losses  and  pain,  life  is  such  a  beautiful  thing  " — 
and  here  Margaret  paused — "  and,  thank  God,  I  can 
say  with  truth  that  I  am  happy." 

Anna  looked  at  her  wistfully.  She  was  learning 
the  same  lesson,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  Margaret 
had  passed  into  a  higher  class  and  was  far  above  her. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  your  secret,"  she  said,  humbly. 
Then  a  wonderful  smile  lighted  up  Margaret's  face. 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  perfectly  simple,"  she  returned. 
"  Listen,  Anna.  Many  years  ago  I  had  a  dear  old  friend 
whom  I  greatly  loved.  You  have  forgotten  her  name, 
I  daresay,  but  then  you  never  knew  her.  She  had  led 
such  a  beautiful,  ministering  life,  but  she  was  drawing 
near  the  end  of  her  pilgrimage  when  I  asked  her  one 
day — I  was  much  younger  then,  you  know — how  one 
was  to  meet  cheerfully  and  bravely  the  limitations  and 
the  loneliness  of  advancing  age.  Shall  I  tell  you  her 
answer?  It  was  this:  'Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good.' 
Just  that  little  text,  but  it  covers  everything.  I  took 
it  for  my  New  Year's  motto.  I  shall  need  no  other 
as  long  as  I  live."  And  as  Anna  softly  repeated  the 
words  to  herself  there  was  a  long  silence  that  neither 
of  them  cared  to  break. 


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Mademoiselle   Celeste.     By  Adele   Ferguson   Knight. 

Maid   at  Arms,   The.     Ry  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Maid  of  Old   New  York.  A.     By  Amelia  E.  Barr. 

Maid   of  the  Whispering    Hills.   The.     By  Vingie  Roe. 

Maids  of   Paradise.   The.       By  Robert  W.   Chambers. 


. 

Man  Outside,  Trie.      By  Wyndham  Martyn 
Man  in  the   Brown    Derby.  The.     By  Weils  Hastings. 
Marriage  a  la  Mode.     By  Mrs.  Humphrev  Ward 
Marriage  of  Theodora.  The.     By  Mollv  Elliott  Seawell 
Marriage  Under  the  Terror,  A.     Bv  Patricia  Wentworth. 
Master  Mummer,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 
Masters  of  the  Wheatlands.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 


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Max.     By  Katherine   Cecil   Thurston. 

Memoirs  of  Sherlock   Holmes.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Millionaire   Baby,   The.     By  Anna   Katharine  Green. 

Mjssioner,    The.     By   E.    Phillips   Oppenheim. 

Miss  Selina   Lue.     By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

Mistress  of  Brae  Farm,  The.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Money  Moon,  The.     By  Jeffery  Farnol. 

Motor  Maid,  The.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Much  Ado  About  Peter.     By  Jean  Webster. 

Mr.  Pratt.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

My   Brother's   Keeper.     By  Charles  Tenny  Jackson. 

My  Friend  the  Chauffeur.     By  C.  N.  and  A.   M.  Williamson. 

My  Lady  Caprice  (author  of  the  "Broad  Higway")-     Jeffery  Farnol. 

My   Lady  of   Doubt.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

My  Lady  of  the   North.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

My   Lady  of  the  South.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Mystery  Tales.     By   Edgar  Allen  Poe. 

Nancy  Stair.     By  Elinor  Macartney  Lane. 

Ne'er- Do- Well,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

No  Friend   Like  a  Sister.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Officer  666.     By  Barton  W.  Currie  and  Augustin  McHugh. 

One   Braver  Thing.     By  Richard  Dehan. 

Order   No.  11.     By  Caroline  Abbot  Stanley. 

Orphan,   The.     By   Clarence   E.    Mulford. 

Out  of  the  Primitive.     By  Robert  Ames  Bennett. 

Pam.     By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 

Pam  Decides.     By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 

Pardners.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Partners  of  the  Tide.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Passage   Perilous,   The.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Passers   By.    By  Anthony  Partridge. 

Paternoster  Ruby,  The.     By  Charles  Edmonds  Walk. 

Patience  of  John   Moreland,  The.     By  Mary  Dillon. 

Paul   Anthony,  Christian.     By  Hiram  W.  Hays. 

Phillip  Steele.     By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 

Phra  the  Phoenician.     By  Edwin  Lester  Arnold. 

Plunderer,  The.     By  Roy  Norton. 

Pole   Baker.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Politician.  The.     By  Edith  Huntington  Mason. 

Polly  of  the  Circus.     By  Margaret  Mayo. 

Pool  of  Flame,  The.     By  Louis  Joseh  Vance. 

Poppy..   By  Cynthia  Stockley. 

Power  and  the  Glory,  The.     By  Grace  McGowan  Cooke. 

Price  of  the  Prairie,  The.     By  Margaret  Hill  McCarter. 

Prince  of  Sinners,  A.    By  E.  Phillis  Oppenheim. 

Prince  or  Chauffeur.     By  Lawrence  Perry. 

Princess  Dehra,  The.     By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Princess  Passes,  The.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Princess  Virginia,  The.       By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Prisoners  of  Chance.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Prodigal  Son,  The.    By  Hall  Caine. 

Purple  Parasol,  The.      By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 


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Reconstructed   Marriage,  A.     By  Amelia  Barr. 

Redemption  of  Kenneth  Gait,  The.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Red    House  on   Rowan   Street.     By  Roman   Doubleday. 

Red   Mouse,  The.     By  William  Hamilton  Osborne. 

Red  Pepper  Burns.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Refugees,  The.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Rejuvenation  of  Aunt  Mary,  The.    By  Anne  Warner. 

Road  to  Providence,  The.     By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

Romance  of  a   Plain   Man,  The.     By  Ellen  Glasgow. 

Rose   in   the   Ring,   The.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Rose  of  Old   Harpeth,  The.     By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

Rose  of  the  World.     By  Agnes  and  Egerton  Castle. 

Round  the  Corner  in  Gay  Street.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Routledge      Rides  Alone.    By  Will  Livingston   Comfort. 

Running    Fight,    The.     By  Win,   Hamilton   Osborne. 

Seats  of  the    Mighty,   The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Septimus.     By  William  J.  Locke. 

Set  in  Silver.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Self- Raised.     (Illustrated.)     By  Mrs.   Southworth. 

Shepherd  of  the   Hills.  The.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Sheriff  of  Dyke  Hole,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum, 

Sidney  Carteret,   Rancher.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Simon  the  Jester.     By  William  J.  Locke. 

Silver   Blade,   The.     By  Charles  E.   Walk. 

Silver   Horde,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Sir   Nigel.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Sir   Richard   Calmady.    By  Lucas  Malet. 

Skyman,  The.     By  Henry  Ketchell  Webster. 

Slim  Princess,  The.     By  George  Ade. 

Speckled  Bird,  A.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Spirit  in    Prison,  A.     By  Robert  Hichens. 

Spirit  of  the  Border,  The.    By  Zane  Grey. 

Spirit  Trail,  The.     By  Kate  and  Virgil  D.  Boyles. 

Spoilers,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Stanton  Wins.     By  Eleanor  M.  Ingram. 

St.  Elmo.    (Illustrated  Edition.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Stolen   Singer,   The.     By  Martha  Bellinger. 

Stooping   Lady,  The.     By  Maurice  Hewlett. 

Story  of  the   Outlaw,  The.    By  Emerson   Hough. 

Strawberry  Acres.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Strawberry   Handkerchief,  The.     By  Amelia  E.  Barr. 

Sunnyside  of  the  Hill,  The.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Sunset  Trail,  The.     By  Alfred  Henry  Lewis. 


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Susan  Clegg  and  Her  Friend  Mrs.  Lathrop.     By  Anne  Warner. 

Sword  of  the  Old   Frontier,  A.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Tales  of  Sherlock   Holmes.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Tennessee  Shad,  The.     By  Owen  Johnson. 

Tess  of  the   D'Urbervilles.     By  Thomas  Hardy. 

Texican,  The.     By  Dane  Coolidge. 

That  Printer  of  Udell's.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Three   Brothers,  The.     By  Eden   Phillpotts. 

Throwback,  The.     By  Alfred  Henry  Lewis. 

Thurston   of  Orchard   Valley.    By  Harold  Bindlosa. 

Title    Market,   The.     By  Emily  Post. 

Torn  Sails.    A  Tale  of  a  Welsh  Village.    By  Allen  Raine. 

Trail  of  the  Axe,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Treasure  of  Heaven,  The.    By  Marie  Corelli. 

Two- Gun    Man,   The.     By  Charles  Alden   Seltzer. 

Two  Vanrevels,  The.     By  Booth  Tarkington. 

Uncle  William.     By  Jennette  Lee. 

Up  from  Slavery.     By  Booker  T.  Washington. 

Vanity  Box,  The.     By  C.  N.  Williamson. 

Vashti.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Varmint,  The.     By  Owen  Johnson. 

Vigilante  Girl,  A.     By  Jerome  Hart. 

Village  of  Vagabonds,  A.     By  F.  Berkeley  Smith. 

Visioning,  The.     By  Susan  Glaspell. 

Voice  of  the  People,  The.     By  Ellen  Glasgow. 

Wanted — A  Chaperon.     By  Paul  Leicester  Ford. 

Wanted:  A  Matchmaker.     By  Paul  Leicester  Ford. 

Watchers  of  the  Plains,  The.     Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Wayfarers,   The.     By  Mary  Stewart  Cutting. 

Way  of  a   Man,  The.     By  Emerson  Hough. 

Weavers,  The.    By  Gilbert  Parker. 

When  Wilderness  Was  King.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Where  the  Trail   Divides.     By  Will  Lillibridge. 

White  Sister,  The.     By  Marion  Crawford. 

Window  at  the  White  Cat,  The.    By  Mary  Roberts  Rhinehart. 

Winning  of   Barbara   Worth,   The.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

With  Juliet  in  England.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Woman   Haters,  The.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Woman  In  Question,  The.     By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Woman  In  the  Alco,ve,  The.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Yellow  Circle,  The.     By  Charles  E.  Walk. 

Yellow   Letter,  The.     By  William  Johnston. 

Younger  Set,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 


